Remember?
by whirlwind94
Summary: What if Maureen had met Roger before Mark introduced them, under very different circumstances? What if after a one-night stand gone horribly wrong, she was the only one of them that remembered? Warning- plenty of foul language, and rather serious themes.
1. Recognition

**Author's Note- This is a plot that may be very hard for some to read. There is rape involved, but nothing explicit is described. I understand that there will be some who are strongly opposed to this story because of how some of the characters act, but please _no flames_. It's Mark/Maureen now, but brief Roger/Maureen then.**

**Disclaimer- Jonathon Larson, thank you for RENT. **

"I'm sure he'll love you," Mark said, though he was beginning to look doubtful.

"Who doesn't?" Maureen laughed, though her flippant answer reflected her true "Couldn't-care-less" feelings. Besides, she didn't really know what the big deal was- so what if Mark's roommate loved her-or hated her? She felt like she was being taken home to meet the parents and be judged and assessed.

But it seemed that dear little Marky really wanted the approval of his friend. Maureen glanced over at her boyfriend and smiled tenderly- the genuine smile was an unusual expression on her face.  
It wasn't flirty or bitter or seductive- just a smile. A bit nervous, his head was bent slightly, his hand gripping hers as he led her upstairs to his loft. She looked around herself curiously, feeling the déjà vu that had been plaguing her since he led her into the building. She felt as if she'd been here before, but couldn't remember any of the details…

Mark's hand was beginning to get sweaty in hers. Ew. Enough of this silly handholding anyways- it was _so_ grade school. Maureen pulled him toward her by his scarf and began kissing him passionately. He let her, and shyly responded to the contact. Maureen's boyfriends usually resisted when she took the lead, but Mark was sweet and submissive, allowing her to do as she pleased. It was a nice change.

Mark broke away at last, gasping. She tilted her head to one side, smiling openly at his pink cheeks, and still-dazed expression.

"Something wrong Pookie?"

He shook his head, and after a steadying breath, reminded," But Roger- you need to meet him, upstairs."

Maureen scowled as she followed him up the last few steps.

Who was this Roger and how could he possibly have enough power over her boyfriend to distract him from her?

Mark took her to the landing and opened the door. She glanced around the poorly furnished space, her gaze landing on a faded, wrinkled poster of a band, tacked to the wall. It looked uncomfortably familiar. She frowned suddenly, being nagged by a vague memory, but then her mind returned to Mark.

"It's not much-" he began apologetically, but Maureen wouldn't be deterred. She tried again and cut him off with another kiss, resolved to make him forget all else but her, wanting him to respond and need her and forget about his dumb friend because she was Maureen, she was his girlfriend and all that mattered-

"Mark, if you're going to be screwing around with your girlfriend, go to your room."

That voice.

Maureen turned to look at him, her eyes narrow, then wide with recognition, and she stumbled slightly, but quickly caught herself on Marks arm. She stared at the man's face as Mark glared at him.

_Gray green eyes, ringed with smudged eyeliner, already hazy with alcohol and probably some other drugs, were staring back into hers. She was new to New York City back then, seventeen and a runaway. Maureen and her best friend had planned to escape their boring lives and confining town together, but she was the only one who followed through. She was wild and free spirit, who had been trapped with old morals and classic rules for far too long. Excited and thrilled by the freedom of New York City, Maureen wandered into a near bar and found a band playing. She automatically smiled at some guy she briefly made eye contact with (a mechanical act of courtesy drilled into her by her mother). Her kindness was rewarded with an open backstage door, and now she was talking to _him_- the singer and guitarist of the band. _

_Sweet, he called her. Intense, and pretty._

_A drink or two (or three?) later, (And after a smoke of something strange and choking but in a soothing way that helped put her more at ease) he asked her._

_Come back to my place?_

_Sure she would- why not? She's free now, a city girl in the making._

_Maureen wasn't naïve- she knew how the evening would go, but she somehow expected something… more._

Her face was blank as she clung to Mark's arm, still swaying.

"Is she drunk or something?"

"No." Mark looked at her uncertainly, but she was lost, staring dumbly at his roommate.

The stairs- vaguely familiar, like this loft's layout, and the poster of the band- _his_ band- and the face- _his_ face- Roger's face. It didn't click together- her own recollection of that night was a bit too hazy for the pieces to snap together so easily. But through the murkiness, things were making sense.

"Is she drunk?" Roger asked again.

"No, I'm Maureen," She snapped without thinking. She distractedly ran her fingers through her hair, and Mark laughed feebly at her bad joke.

"Maureen?" He asked, nervously smiling. She turned to him with wide eyes, then looked down and blinked,

"Sorry Pookie- don't you ever-?" She shook her head. "Whatever. My period's due tomorrow and dizziness is a PMS thing." She lied, knowing that he wouldn't press the issue. Maureen ignored Roger and smiled suddenly at Mark, leaning in.

"But where did we leave off?"

Mark blinked at her suddenly seductive tone. He stuttered, "Um, Rog- Roger, my roommate."

Fake smile firmly in place, she turned to Roger.

"Right! Oh, hey. Heard so much about you."

"Same," he offered, looking her over briefly before turning back to his guitar.

_Maureen thrilled to the touch of his hands on her body, bold and unapologetic, unlike those silent shy boys her mother had insisted she date back home. She let him lead her up the stairs, though it took longer with them stopping halfway up each flight, kissing deeply. _

_It had been easy for her to give in to his insistent hands, and Maureen allowed herself to be pulled onto the bed. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and he was still kissing her, then his mouth was on her neck, and Maureen raised her arms and her shirt was on the floor, followed by her bra, and his fingers- rough calloused guitarist fingers- were scratching at her hips, undoing the button of her jeans._

_She silently rejoiced in her new found sexual power. She was actually doing it- she was sleeping with a guy she just met, and he was hot and he wanted her, she was her own person and could do whatever she wanted with anyone she wanted, and what would her mother think, what would her father say- ha!_

_Maureen had a fleeting concern and wondered about protection, but then he was there, already pulling down her pants and now he was undressing but now she didn't really like these kisses, sloppy and wet and gross. He was moving so fast- he obviously knew what he was doing- and then there were those hands- those rough scratchy dirty hands- touching her, pulling her towards him._

_"Wait," she said, but he paused to look at her with those eyes, those hazy green eyes that weren't even focused and weren't really seeing her._

_Suddenly disenchanted, Maureen pulled away, but he moved with her, on top of her, disregarding her pushing hands._

_"Wait- hang on a second- stop!" _

_It was like he didn't hear her, and her struggles were useless, and she was helpless, helpless hurting, being driven out of her mind by those damned green eyes that were blank and empty-_

"Nice to meet you Roger," she said, suddenly desperate for him to look more closely at her. Maureen fixed her eyes on his face as he glanced up at her again, and she held his gaze.

"Yeah, you too," Roger said, looking back down at his guitar, sliding his fingers along the frets.

Maureen stepped forward, towards him on the couch, pulling her hand away from Mark's.

"So, uh, that's a cool guitar." She knew she sounded stupid, but she just had to get him to look at her to see if he'd recognize her.

He shot a glance towards Mark, as if asking him to make his girlfriend butt out (and Maureen could almost picture Mark's helpless shrug and wide eyes), but she was silently screaming for him to look directly at her, and place her face.

"Thanks," he said, starting to sound annoyed. "It's a-"

"A Fender, yeah." She snapped back, realizing that he wasn't going to identify her. He looked to her, startled by her tone. Roger suddenly frowned with his eyes on her face. He hesitated, and she knew what he was going to ask before he spoke.

"Have we met before?"

Maureen gaped at him, then recovered. Finally! It took him long enough.

"You mean, before now? Um," she pretended to think a moment, stung with anger that he could forget their encounter so easily, but at the same time, slightly surprised that he recognized her at all from his drugged memory.

"Aren't you in a band? I think I saw you once."

"Yeah, I was…I mean, I used to be…"

His face clouded over, and he was gone, too lost in his own memories to question her further.

_Then there was the morning after._

_Maureen awoke, disorientated, alone in a bed that wasn't hers, in a room she didn't recognize. She yawned, then- puzzled by an itch on her face- brought a hand up to feel the scratchy residue left from dried tear tracks. Still wondering about her surroundings, she sat up, then immediately cringed at the pain she felt in several sore places, namely between her legs. She glanced down._

_"What the hell?"_

_Her arm instinctively moved to cover her exposed chest, and she blushed, startled by her own nudity. What happened last night? She remembered…she remembered being on the train alone, irritated with her friend who stayed behind, then switching to a bus, then arriving in New York…a bar, a band, then _him_, with his good looks and dimmed drugged eyes, and then, and then…_

_Her eyes widened._

"_Oh my God."_

_Maureen got out of the bed, staring with slight disbelief at the rumpled bed sheets, and looked to her naked legs as if for answers. She found her jeans in a heap by the door, and the rest of her clothing strewn around the room. She dressed silently, alone in the chaotic bedroom._

_Shocked and numb- **raped, she'd been raped**- she sat on the bed for a few minutes- **just another stupid girl with idealistic hopes**- blinking back bewildered tears- **who wandered to New York City and got raped**._

_But, where was he?_

_The room was cluttered with clothing thrown about with some food wrappers, a few ashtrays laying around- one dumped over, leaving a gray spot on the floor. There were posters of bands, and some recorded tapes and- she stepped carefully over the syringe. She looked around for her shoes but wouldn't find them in the mess. Still in a stunned daze, she opened the door._

_Maureen tiptoed, walking through the living space. Fearfully scanning the room for any sign of him, she stubbed her toe on a black guitar case. A whimper of pain instantly sprang from her lips, and she bent over, clutching her toe. She spun suddenly at the sound of movement behind her. There he was, on the couch, with a pillow over his face._

_He let out a long sigh, his mouth stretching to where she could see it, though his eyes and most of his nose was obscured by the ratty cushion. _

_"Mark?" he groaned. "Would you get me my fucking coffee?"_

_Maureen let out a small startled cry at the sound of his voice, and he lifted the pillow off of his face, frowning with confusion. He blinked at her a moment, and Maureen instinctively took a step back, away from him._

_"Oh." He frowned at her a moment. "Hey."_

_"Hey." She responded, her voice raspy from last night's tears and sobs that had torn their way out of her throat before she fell into an exhausted sleep. What the hell was she doing? Talking calmly to him, when he had touched her, hurt her._

_"Uh…what're you still doing here?" _

_She stared at him, uncertain and strangely numb. _

_"It's just…I didn't expect you to hang around."_

_She took another step back as he sat up on the couch. She was still staring at him with a wide unflinching gaze._

_"About last night…I don't know what your problem was. I mean, you didn't have to get like that."_

_Maureen felt as if he'd just slapped her. He looked at her, indifferent to the insane pain she was feeling._

_She felt the beginnings of hysteria rise in her chest, and she suddenly she made a run for the door. She flung it open, rushing down the stairs, still barefoot, slipping and missing a step, but recovering and continuing to scamper down until she was outside of that damned building. She kept running, down the street, until she had put blocks of distance between herself and him and that blank unapologetic stare. She stumbled to a stop, ignoring the few curious looks that she attracted as she stopped on a bench. She curled her knees up to her chest and began crying. It started off as a sniffly whimper, then the tears fell in harsh shuddering sobs that tore from her chest and left her gasping and hiccupping. She rocked herself back and forth as it sank in._

"Maureen?" Mark was looked at her intently, still standing in the doorway, and she went to him. Roger sank down onto the couch, and Mark led her into another room- his bedroom- and they sat on the bed. Though her head was still spinning slightly from the shock of seeing Roger after all this time, she could tell that Mark was agitated.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Mark looked away, then back to her. He lowered his voice. "Roger doesn't like talking about his past. He's had it tough life these past few years, and, well…"

"Yeah?" She looked at him skeptically, knowing that what he said wouldn't make a difference to her. Roger's had it tough? Yeah right. Mark didn't know half of it.

"Maybe it would be best if you didn't bring up his band again. After his girlfriend…died, he lost his inspiration and his group broke up. He just recently took up his guitar again, and I don't want him to lose his motivation by thinking of depressing things that happened in the past."

His girlfriend's dead? That was unexpected, but Maureen wasn't giving in so easily.

"Oh. Too bad. What happened to the girlfriend?"

Mark appeared as if he didn't want to say too much, but whispered.

"She killed herself."

Maureen blinked, but was still unmoved. She felt slightly guilty, like she should feel bad, but her own anger was still seething under a thin veil of polite indifference. Mark cast a wary eyes to the closed door, then told her, still whispering, "She had AIDS. So does he."

What?

Maureen suddenly had to get out of there. All this information about the man she fiercely hated was pressing in on her- but how could she hate someone who was so sick- though that didn't excuse him- but he was drunk anyways- and his girlfriend was dead- and he was hurting too now, so maybe she was finally even, but shouldn't she let go after all these months, but she couldn't because he had hurt her, and-

She stood up, leaving Mark on the edge of his bed. He looked up at her frantically, as if he had done something wrong.

"I have to go."

"I'm sorry, that was all really unnecessary for me too press on you- too much information, I just wanted you to know, but I hope you don't-"

She smiled fondly at his stammers but was firm in her choice.

"Pookie, it's not that, it's just, I forgot about something I already have an appointment for. I'll see you later."

She kissed him swiftly, then walked as quickly as she could out of there.

_Finally, she sighed and wiped her eyes, feeling exhausted by all that had happened, and by the flood of tears that had rushed out and left her drained. Maureen stared vacantly ahead, then peered around her, taking in her surroundings. She was in New York. Then she looked down at her feet and nearly laughed out loud. _

_There were her toes, uncovered and wiggling back up at her. Maureen shook her head as she realized that she had left her shoes back at the apartment. She started to giggle. What would _he_ do with her shoes? Wear them? No! And Mark- whoever he was- probably wouldn't fit them either, because Maureen had always had such small feet and those shoes were even a little tight on her but she wore them anyways because her mother had bought them for her on her last birthday, even though that was pathetic, because honestly, what kind of runaway brings impractical shoes on her adventures just for sentimental values, but what did that matter, because now those shoes were now left at the apartment- _his_ apartment- her one night stand, attacker, rapist's apartment._

_Rapist? _

_She buried her head. Maureen was shaken out of her building panic by that word- rapist. Maureen had never dreamed that that word would ever be connected to her in any way._

_But she was raped, had been raped, hurt violated attacked._

_Lured, she added in her head. Lured by a beautiful but wicked and cruel and pitiless and terrible boy. It was her own stupid fault. And then what did she do the morning after? Oh, just chatted with him._

_Her rapist. Her rapist/attacker/violator-_

_She stopped herself and began sorting things out in her mind._

_Whatever. It didn't matter. She'd get herself checked at a clinic- this was a big city, New York City, and she wasn't the first person to ever have been hurt this way- and after making sure that everything was fine, she'd get an apartment, get some food, find some shoes, find a job, start auditioning, have her breakthrough- she'd move on. It would be over with._

_Besides, she had learned something. From now on, she would take anyone she wanted to her bed. She didn't care if she didn't know him or he seemed a jerk, or if he was older or younger or sleazy or gross- she would take them. She'd be aggressive and bitchy and flirt and tease and be unfaithful and make them want her so bad they'd go crazy. And once they loved her, she'd break all of their hearts. Because no matter what, Maureen would never let any man hurt her- like this or in any other way- again._

**Author's note- About the timeline, and when this story happened-**

**During the flashback, Roger hasn't yet met April, but he and Mark are already living together. Roger is obviously already into drugs.**

**Nearly a year later, Maureen lets her current fling (Mark) drag her home and puts the pieces together. April has come and gone, and Roger is now recovering from withdrawal. **

**All of this takes place before the musical (Maureen doesn't know Joanne yet).**

**Another note- Also, I initially disliked Maureen. Though I admired her vibrant energy, I thought she was shallow and unfaithful and was not all that nice to Mark. She seemed to be somewhat bitchy and overly attention seeking. However, I started to think- what might have made her that way? Maybe there was a reason, maybe she wasn't always like that.**

**So, this story is edgy for me, and I'm not sure how it will be received. Reviews are MUCH appreciated.**


	2. Dealing with it

**Author's note: Ok, I'm going to try to continue this fic…we'll see how it goes because I don't have much of a destination in mind for the end (but I kind of do!), and I haven't finished any multi-fic stories so far…nonetheless, some reviewers thought this would be good to continue. **

**Also, some italics are Maureen's panicked thoughts but a dream she has is also in italics, so don't be puzzled.**

**Dislaimer- Jonathon Larson owns all the characters and the plot of RENT. R.I.P.**

Maureen clutched the grocery bag tightly in her hands, walking quickly away from the store, from Mark, from her humiliation and the cashier's sympathy.

"Maureen! Wait up!"

She ignored him and walked faster until she was nearly running, but she couldn't get more than a block away before she started crying. She kept running until she got back into the loft, stomping up the stairs. She threw the groceries on the counter.

"Where's Mark?"

Maureen tried not to scream with fury at the sound of his voice. _Of course_ he was here. Roger never left the house nowadays.

"I don't know. Why don't you go out and look for him?"

Roger laughed bitterly. "Because I'm here."

"You're _always_ here, Roger."

Footsteps slammed up the fire escape and Mark burst in, panting from the run after her.

"Maureen…you can't just…take off like that!"'

She glared at him and gulped back a shaky, angry laugh. Can't take off like that? Of course she could. Maureen could run anywhere she damn pleased. She could do anything she wanted- except take any more of the kind, sad way they had all been looking at her in the supermarket line. That stupid old lady behind her even had the nerve to pat her sympathetically on the back.

Mark looked guilty as he saw the tears on her face.

"Hey, wait Maureen- kindness won! It's ok." he tried to get her to smile, but she wouldn't look at him.

"It's fucking pathetic, is what it is." She muttered, slapping away Mark's hand as he tried to reach around her for the milk. She put it in the fridge by herself, and slammed the refrigerator door. Mark went on.

"We are so fortunate that the cashier was kind enough to-"

"Mark! It's _embarrassing_! Our financial situation is so pitiful that the cashier had to give us those things for free. I'm not a fucking charity case."

"Sorry this isn't turning out to be the life you dreamed of, princess." Roger's voice came from the couch. She turned to look at him, and he stared back at her, showing no remorse when she broke down into sobs again.

"Look, I'm sorry! It's just- I never wanted to be in the position where I had to rely on other people's generosity to get by. I don't…." she struggled to assemble her thoughts, but her wounded pride was still roaring in hurt. "I'm not blaming you Mark."

"I know." He looked miserable. "I'm sorry it's so tough on you."

"Mark, don't you apologize!" Roger sat up on the cushion, and his hands were clasped over the side of the couch. His eyes were angry, but he didn't look at Maureen.

"Roger, I should be taking better care of her."

"You're out there every fucking day filming in the rain, snow, all that shit, and she does nothing."

"I'm looking for a job!" Maureen protested. "I'm making this place livable, that's a full-time job in itself! Who baby-sits you when Mark goes out, watches you because 'We can't leave dear little Roger alone, he might _hurt_ himself'? I don't get paid, but at least I contribute. I don't sit around all day, moping and being a jerk like you do!"

"_I'm_ a jerk? You're such a bitch, it's like your life is one big PMS cramp-"

"Thanks Roger, that's real mature-"

"You treat my best friend like crap after all that he's doing-

"I told him I was sorry, didn't I Mark? I apologized to you!" she hollered back, not even looking at Mark as she addressed him. Roger interrupted her, finishing his previous statement.

"And if you don't like it, you can get out."

"If Mark wants me to leave, he'll tell me. You can't kick out your roommate's girlfriend-"

"Would you two shut up!?!" Mark screamed. Maureen looked at him, shocked by his outburst, and almost laughed. It was like he was a kid, with two constantly bickering, fighting parents. She looked over at Roger and saw him stifle a laugh too, as if he were thinking the same thing. He turned his eyes to hers, and she looked away.

"I don't know what the hell the problem is with either of you, but it's driving me freaking crazy! If you two can't pretend to like each other- fine, but could you at least not argue? Maureen, I'm sorry that I can't provide for you the way I wish I could-"

"It's ok, baby." She already felt guilty.

"And Roger, could you lay off of her? She was frustrated, that's all."

Roger lowered his eyes, also looking guilty.

"Yeah, sure, whatever man."

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He cornered her later that day. She was doodling on a poster of his former band, using a purple permanent marker to scrawl over his face, rendering him completely unrecognizable and exceptionally unattractive. Roger watched her progress with a slight smirk as she completed his unibrow and went on to discolor some of his teeth, giving him a pirate-ish grin.

"Nice work there, da Vinci."

"What do you want?" She didn't look up.

"Maure-"  
"I don't want to talk to you. Go away."

He had a short fuse. "Maureen, shut up."

"Don't talk to me like that!" She rose instantly to any excuse- not that she needed one- to yell at him.

"Would you keep your voice down?" He hissed, glancing towards the shut door to Mark's room.

"What do you want?" She repeated between gritted teeth.

"Would you give me chance to talk?"

"Yeah, and that was it. Sorry."

"Look, I'm not here to continue our fight or start a new one or anything. I just want to talk to you. It's kinda important."

She looked at him briefly, startled. Could he have remembered, and put the pieces together? Did he mean-?

"It's about Mark."

Mark?

Oh yeah, her boyfriend.

"What about him?" Returned to indifference, she glanced back down at the poster.

"It's just…I've known him for years and I have never seen him as upset as I saw him today. I mean, we must be really getting under his skin, like, fucking _bad_ to make him blow up like that. He's usually so…"

"Impassive? Cold? Removed?" She offered bitterly.

He gave a short laugh. "Sometimes. But I meant he's always got himself under control. I feel kinda bad for the poor guy, 'cause we're driving him up the wall, and I just would hate it if we like, traumatized him or some shit because we couldn't stop fighting. So, I'd like to offer…a peace treaty- a truce of sorts."

He held out his hand, and she looked up at it

"For his sake."

"For his sake," Maureen agreed, returning to her art, and completely ignoring his outstretched hand. A look of confusion, then irritation passed over his face, then he withdrew his hand, stuffing it in his jacket pocket and walking off.

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The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, until Mark got a call from his sister in the early afternoon. Apparently Cindy had planned to enjoy a _very special_ anniversary evening with her husband at some fancy hotel or another, but the babysitter has canceled out at the last minute. Mr. and Mrs. Cohen were ill with the flu, so they couldn't do anything to help with the kids, and Mark was the only other person she could think of. Maureen rolled her eyes as she handed the phone to Mark. He frowned as he took it. She could still hear the woman's teary voice as Mark carried the phone into the other room.

All was quiet as she and Roger sat cross-legged at the low coffee table finishing their lunch, neither looking at the other. Maureen studied the stained, worn tabletop, her fingernails tapping idly.

"Well a little more notice would've been nice, Cindy!"

Roger looked up from his half-eaten burger at the sound of his roommate's raised voice. Mark was moving closer to the door, and his voice was clearer. Maureen listened with interest.

"No… no. Of course I'll come. How old are they again?"

He came out of his room with the phone.

"Ok…games? Storybooks? Christ, Cindy…no, it's ok. Yeah, alright. Bye."

He hung up the phone and turned back to them.

"So I have to go and watch her kids-"

"We heard." Maureen said, her voice sympathetic.

Roger laughed. "Have fun babysitting, Mark!"

Mark playfully flipped him off as he headed out the door.

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It was weird trying to sleep in the room she shared with Mark when he wasn't there. The bed felt… empty, and a little cold. Maureen finally got up and headed to the kitchen, her blanket wrapped around her. The ends of it trailed on the floor as she poured some water into the teapot and set it on the stove. She selected a teabag, and left it on the counter. Chamomile would calm her nerves and help her get to sleep. She knew that nothing would happen- _nothing would happen! So calm down_- but she just felt antsy being in the house alone with Roger. She'd done it before; staying home with him as Mark went out with his camera -_but it had never been at night…all night_. She settled down on the couch, pulling her blanket around her as she waited for her water to boil. She yawned, and decided to rest her head as she waited.

_Grabbing hands, touching her, hurting her, forcing her and there was nothing she could do nothing nothing she could do to make it stop _**_stop STOP!_**_ It was hurting, she was hurting, it wasn't supposed to be like this, it shouldn't be feeling like this, would nobody help her?_

She twisted and cried out. Suddenly, somebody was there.

"Shh. Hey now. Stop, it's ok."

Someone else was touching her now, pulling her, so she fought the body. She did what she could, she thrashed in his arms, tried to get away.

"Shh Maureen, it's ok, it's just me."

She could feel the words rumble in his chest pressed against hers, and actually found this comforting, and she calmed. Arms were holding her against him, gentle though, now. She wasn't being pinned, she was being held secure, safe, comforted.

"It's alright, shh. Maureen, it's only me, just Roger…"

She stiffened, suddenly very very awake and terrified and angry.

"Get OFF of me!! What the HELL do you think you're doing?!"

She screamed, leaping away from Roger. He looked stricken, scrambling off of the couch, and gestured helplessly with his hands as he searched for an explanation.

"Nothing, I just- I heard the kettle go off, and you w-were here, and it was j-just- you seemed upset, w-with a nightmare so I-"

"Thought you'd cuddle with your best friend's girlfriend?! Is that it?"

"No! It wasn't that at all, I just wanted to help!"

"Get the hell out of here right now Roger fucking Davis. You'd better pray that I don't tell Mark about this."

"I can't believe you-"

"Out."

She stood there, hand pointing to the door, and he gave her a disbelieving look before he stalked back into his room.

"Bitch."

Maureen stared at the door for a few moments after he closed it, then sank back down onto the couch feeling rather shaky. She pulled the blanket off of the ground where it had fallen, and cocooned herself in it again. She couldn't believed what had just happened. He had been there, so close to her, holding her and that was such a scary thought- him, holding her vulnerable sleeping body, ready to hurt her.

_But he hadn't hurt you_, she reminded herself.

Maybe he was about to but she had stopped him just in time.

_I don't think so_, reasoned a voice in her head. _This is new Roger, remember? He's not on drugs. He's safe._

He's Roger- he hurt me before- he's not safe.

_Maybe he just wanted to comfort you._

Whatever.

She noticed there was a mug on the table, a steaming mug filled with hot chamomile tea. It seemed to be an almost thoughtful gesture. But why...? Maureen stole a curious look at his closed door, then retreated to her room with the tea.

She lay awake, thinking…thinking about second chances and redemption and guilt and forgiveness. She still hadn't reached a conclusion when the soothing chamomile overtook her and she finally fell asleep.

**Notes/Explanation on the Timeline:**

**So, first Maureen was raped on a one-night stand gone awry with Roger. She was seventeen, new to New York City, and he had been all strung out on drugs, so she's the only one that remembers. Later, she met Mark and began dating him, and he just happened to be Roger's best friend and roommate. After realizing the connection, she stayed with Mark anyways, keeping the past to herself. April had already come and gone (before Maureen started seeing Mark). **

**Then circumstances changed, and she moved in with Mark (and Roger and Collins, though Benny moved out within a week of her arrival). During this chapter, Collins is gone at a University, teaching for a few months, so it's just Mark, Maureen and Roger at the house.**

**If anyone is confused by this, or doesn't understand what happened when, please PM me and I would be more than happy to explain it to you.**


	3. The New Girl

CHAPTER 3

Author's note: I've decided to continue this fic. I know some scenes I want to include, and I know how I want the story to end, but I need to work on getting it there. I don't know that anything in the story will _resolve_ itself exactly, but these are some situations that Maureen might find herself in, that are related to (or made difficult by) her past with Roger.

Dislaimer- Jonathon Larson owns all the characters and the plot of RENT.

"A stripper?" Snorted Maureen. She was seated with Mark, Collins, and Joanne around the low coffee table. Joanne was sitting with her on the couch, arm around her waist. She looked sharply at Maureen, but turned back to Mark when he continued talking.

"Not- not a stripper exactly. She's a dancer." He defended, though he seemed a bit skeptical himself.

"A stripper." Repeated Maureen. "Let me clarify this- Roger's been seeing a stripper?"

"_Not_ a stripper." Mark said again, looking a bit irritated. "She's a dancer. This job requires some skill, not just the body."

"She's a slut!" Maureen laughed- cackled, really. Roger was dating a stripper? Wow, he'd gone from raping his girls to hiring them!

"Easy, Maureen!" Collins looked a little startled by her animosity. "You haven't even met her yet."

"Have you?" She asked pointedly.

"Nah, but I heard a lot about her, right Mark?" He playfully nudged the blonde, who just shook his head.

"I just think it's good for him to be seeing someone. She seems like a nice girl-"

"For someone who sells herself."

"Maureen!" Joanne's arm tightened around her threateningly, and her girlfriend shot her a dirty look.

"What? I'm just saying…"

"I can hear you, you know!" Roger called out from the other room. He had been strumming his guitar in his room and didn't want to be bothered, or so Mark said when Maureen inquired after noticing his absence.

"I think you're making progress Roger." She called back. "From druggie to stripper- quite an improvement!"

"Shut up." Was his only response, and his door clicked shut again. Maureen glared at the closed door for a moment. "What an asshole," she muttered, before glancing around at the faces of her friends seated around her. Mark was frowning at Maureen.

"What?" Maureen snapped.

"I just- what's your problem?"

"What do you mean?" She felt suddenly aware of how they were all looking at her.

"Is there something wrong? You just seem to be-" Mark searched for the right word. "Upset. Edgy. Irritable."

"I'm _fine_." She replied snippily.

"Maureen, maybe we should go." Joanne spoke in a warning tone of voice.

"Why? Pookie, we just got here!" Maureen tried to get a smile from her girlfriend, but Joanne was looking serious.

"I think it's time for us to go home." She said firmly.

"Go home then. No one's making you stay." Snapped Maureen, agitated and really not in the mood for her girlfriend's bossiness.

"You know what I mean!"

"Go home Joanne, you're making a scene." She was dismissive now.

"No, _you're_ the one turning it into something else. I don't know what's wrong but could you cool down just a little? You're being rude and I don't like it."

"You're overreacting." Maureen replied coolly. "If you had a bad day at work, don't take it out on me. I'm _fine_."

"Don't put this on me Maureen. Work was fine. You're the one who is acting all edgy. Even Mark noticed!" Joanne said severely, neither of them noticing the uncomfortable looks Collins and Mark were exchanging. "Would you stop disregarding my question? I'm asking you- _what's wrong_?"

"No, you're not! You're not asking me anything. You're trying to boss me around and force me to go home when I don't want to! You know what? I don't have to take this from you. You think you're better than me? Just because you went to college, and you're some big fancy lawyer, and you have money? You think you can tell me what to do but you can't!"

Maureen stood, flushed with anger that wasn't really directed at her girlfriend. She was spitting out the words, all the while acutely aware of Roger's presence in the other room. Joanne stood too.

"Maureen if you would listen, if you would calm down and hear what I am saying, things wouldn't escalate like this. I was _not_ trying to boss you around. I was trying to avoid this kind of scene while we were visiting your friends, but apparently you had your heart set on this sort of display!"

"What do you mean, 'your friends'? I thought _we_ were all friends, but are you too good for us Miss Ivy League?" Maureen mocked.

"All right, I have had enough. I'm going home." Joanne said shortly, grabbing her purse from the table. "Bye Mark, Collins."

"Bye." Echoed Mark, giving her a look of sympathy. Collins just nodded his goodbye to Joanne, who was quickly out the door.

Maureen leaned back in her seat, wondering what to say. "Women." She finally said bitterly, shaking her head.

Mark raised his eyebrow at her, but Collins just smiled with an easy laugh. "I wouldn't know Maureen."

Mark turned to him. "But what about- doesn't she count as-"

"Angel never even gets like that, man, you know her!"

"Where _is_ Angel?" Maureen questioned, wondering about her friend's lack of appearance. She glanced around, as if she expected Angel to be hiding somewhere. She twisted in her seat, almost expecting the always-smiling drummer to leap into sight, sporting some exotic tights and a brightly colored skirt. She looked back at her friends, noticing the way Mark's nervous blue eyes flicked to Collins's solemn face.

"What's wrong?" She questioned, sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere. She directed her words to Collins. "Have you two been alright? Is…is everything alright?"

Collins cleared his throat, looking away. "Uh, Angel's been, uh, she ain't been feeling too well."

"_What_?" Maureen stared at him, eyes wide and shocked. She hadn't been expecting that at all.

"She's sick." She just blinked uncomprehendingly at him, and Collins snapped. "Goddammit Maureen, she's sick."

"What do you mean?" Her voice was sharp, pained. Collins was suddenly on his feet.

"I gotta go man," He said tersely to Mark, who nodded his quick, sympathetic understanding. "Bye Maureen."

"Bye," she echoed softly, after the front door had closed. She was slightly dazed. Angel was… sick? It seemed impossible for her lively friend to be any thing less than her cheerful, animated self.

"I can't believe it." She finally murmured. Maureen glanced up to see Mark's ever-watchful eyes on her, observing. "Did you know? I had no idea."

"That's because you're too caught up fighting with Joanne to ever notice anything." Roger answered before Mark could, and Maureen turned, startled, to watch him enter the room. He gave her a dirty look. "You're so self-absorbed, Maureen."

She blinked in a moment of surprise before she came up with a response. "At least I don't go to strippers to take away my sorrows." She sneered. "I deal with my conflicts."

"Yeah, loudly and in public. And besides, she's not a stripper." He replied coolly. "She's a dancer."

"Oh really?" Raised eyebrows, impressed, with mock surprise. "Wow, not only does she get paid to take off her clothes, she knows how to shake a thing while doing it! Sounds like real talent."

"You don't even know her." Roger snarled.

"But to know her is to _love_ her, from what I hear! If you _know_ what I'm _saying_."

"Maureen would you just-"

"Roger, don't try and defend her honor!" She let out a clipped laugh. "You must realize that, being a stripper, she doesn't have any!"

"Shut up."

"Great comeback. Excellent display of wit." Maureen used her sarcasm as a defense, frantic to get her mind from worrying about Angel. She turned to Mark, smiling brightly. "So when do I get to meet the stripper?"

"Her name is Mimi." Roger corrected, looking more than annoyed. He was shooting her a dark look from the kitchen, helping himself to some donuts from a pink cardboard box. Collins had brought them by; they were left in the staff room last week at his current workplace. Stale? Yes, but that didn't stop anyone from taking some.

"Mimi?" Maureen laughed sharply. "I would've expected something a bit more slutty-sounding, but maybe she likes the naughty-kitty type of name-"

"Maureen that's enough!" She was surprised to hear Mark speak. "Roger, why don't you go back to your room? Maureen, I'll drive you home." Mark spoke quietly, though his tone was forceful enough to send Roger to his room without further complaint. Maureen looked at her ex-boyfriend, who simply stood and walked to the door, holding it open for her. Maureen grabbed her purse and followed him outside.

They went down the stairs in silence. Finally at the bottom, Mark turned to face her. Before he could begin talking, she said with a bitter smile. "I guess you're really mad at me, huh?"

Mark sighed. "What makes you say that?"

"You've never really kicked me out before, first of all."

"Secondly?" He prompted. Maureen just laughed and gestured to the street.

"You don't have a car!"

"What? Oh yeah… yeah, you're right. I forgot."

"But I'm sorry. About Angel." She struggled to explain herself. "I wasn't trying to be mean about it. I really had no idea."

He looked up at her, blue eyes clear and wise. "I know. It's alright, Maureen."

He took her cold hand in one of his mittened ones. She noticed the worn thin yarn fibers, the way the tips of his fingers showed through. Maureen closed her eyes and allowed him to heat up her hands, feeling comforted by the familiarity of her former boyfriend. He was sweet. Mark was sweet. Why had she given up on him again?

Her cellphone went off, letting out a high-pitched ring. Maureen's eyes snapped open, her warmed fingers reaching for the phone in her jean pocket. She glanced at the name before snapping it open to speak. Joanne. _Right_, that was why she and Mark weren't together.

"Maureen, I'm sorry about the way I lost my temper. I didn't mean to storm out of there-"

"Pookie, Pookie, it's fine!" Maureen forced a laugh into her voice, smiling widely as she spoke. "I'm sorry too, I didn't want a fight."

"Really?" Joanne seemed skeptical. " Because it seemed to me that you were looking for one, but-"

"I can't believe this. Joanne, are you blaming me?"

Sigh. "Maureen, please not again. I didn't ask for a repeat performance."

"Well excuse me, but it seems like you're trying to blame me for what happened earlier!"

"I'm not! Would you just listen? I called to say I'm sorry. Do you want me to come pick you up?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Be there in a few. Love you, Honeybear." Joanne's tone was affectionate.

"Yeah, bye." Maureen rarely said 'I love you' back. Even when she did, she didn't know if she ever meant it.

She shut her phone and looked up to find Mark watching her. She frowned. It could be really unsettling at times, with him always silently observing.

"Joanne?" He guessed.

"Yeah. She's on her way."

"Of course." He said softly. What did he mean by that?

"Yeah well… you know how she gets." Even Maureen didn't know what she was trying to say now. "But anyways- about Angel."

"Right. Roger's been taking it really hard, you know. It's difficult for him to see a friend weaken like that… you know, because-"

"I know." Maureen didn't mean to snap, but she did. "I know, poor Roger, the AIDs, I get it."

"It's not just that though. It's Mimi- she's a blessing really, because Roger's been out more and well, actually she-"

"What?" She was slightly suspicious.

"They're perfect for each other, I'll just say that." Mark was grinning slightly. Maureen just frowned, not understanding.

"Great for them." She looked to the street as Joanne pulled up. "Later, Mark."

She hugged him briefly before getting in Joanne's car.

Author's Note- Ok, I'm screwing with the timeline a little here. I think in the play/movie Maureen doesn't even know about Mimi until she meets her after the protest. I don't think Maureen meets Angel until then, either, but I'm not sure (You know, the greetings and introductions that take place outside of the Life Café right before La Vie Boheme?). So, I'm skewing things slightly, especially with Angel being sick before Mimi's even fully in the picture. Apparently, this fic is not strictly in the same Universe as the movie/play.

There's a lot more coming, believe me! I have three or four more chapters mostly typed up, and the ending and second to last chapter… It's really just a matter of filling in the blanks.

As always, if there are any questions, PLEASE PM me. I'd be very happy just to know that someone is interested in following the story.


	4. Moos and Meeting Mimi

CHAPTER FOUR

"She's gonna be here tonight?" Maureen asked, grinning eagerly. "The stripper's gonna be at my performance?"

Both Mark and Roger ignored her as they placed the speakers in their final positions for her protest that night, but she laughed anyways. "No, I'm totally glad, Roger. I'm sure she'll help draw the crowds!"

Roger just rolled his eyes. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, Marky helped Joanne fix the microphone earlier." Mark fidgeted and she looked over him fondly. "Thanks, Pookie."

"Of course, I- it was nothing." Mark stammered, grinning slightly. Roger sent him a raised eyebrow and Mark's blush only deepened. Maureen had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Mark's ridiculous embarrassment, and thanked them again. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the stage, her critical inner perfectionist skimming it for any possible problems. _It'll be great_, she reassured herself.

But then she felt doubtful.

Maureen imagined her protest that night. _Of course_ it would go well, she'd get the crowd riled up and involved, then end it with a spirited chant of united "Moo"s.

But after? When she saw her friends, and they celebrated her success?

Roger would have a girl with him. He'd have _Mimi_, his little dancer, hanging on his arm.

Maureen was struck by insecurity.

What if she was louder, or prettier, or more charismatic than Maureen? What if Mimi, the New Girl, took all the attention? This was supposed to be Maureen's night, not "Welcome to the Family" night for Mimi.

"We'll see you later!" Mark said, heading towards the door. She looked at them, pulled out of her whirling thoughts of anxiety.

"Wait!" She called out, and they both turned. Maureen had to say something to hurt Roger before he left, before he brought this new woman into the picture to outshine her.

"I just wanted to say that I'd be careful if I were you Roger," she said, the cruel words coming to her easily. She was targeting one of his few vulnerabilities. Maureen let the insults slip off her tongue, poisonous and biting. "Those sluts are usually crawling with STDs."

"_Maureen!_" She ignored Mark, but Roger looked really stricken. She went on anyway.

"I mean, you obviously don't have to worry about the worst, but some of the less fatal infections can be really uncomfortable."

He was shaking his head, like he couldn't believe that she was saying that.

"Yeah, you'd know, having slept around with every man here to Third avenue, and probably most of the women!" Roger shot back, but still he looked shaken. Mark put an arm around Roger.

"Oh, going to comfort him?"

Mark just gave her a dark look. "You don't even know what you're saying."

She was taken aback by his tone. Realizing that there was no way to win this, Maureen snapped, "Whatever, if you're done here, you should go."

Roger suddenly lunged as if he was going for her, but Mark held him back.

"If you want anyone to show up tonight, you'd better treat us better!"

"Roger, Rog, let's just go."

"You heard her! She-"

"Let's go."

After a brief standoff that ended with Maureen dismissively turning away, they exited quickly.

Maureen looked after them, wondering what exactly had struck the nerve in Roger. Maybe it was the AIDS- maybe he was sensitive about it because of Angel's recent illness. After another moment of thought, she shrugged. Whatever. She had a protest to put on tonight, and that was much more important than Roger and his mood swings.

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Goddamn Benny. Maureen was still seething as she and Joanne put away the last bits of equipment, shoving them into the back of the van. Maureen even gave one of the bigger speakers a kick before she slammed the back door of the van shut. The driver hadn't even helped them load it up really; he just waited for them to put the rented equipment in on their own before he drove the van away.

It was almost an hour before the commotion died down enough for them to try and put the place back in order again. Maureen felt grateful to Joanne for not leaving, for helping her clean up. After the police had cleared the lot, Benny left, giving her a pitied look before climbing into his fancy car. Range Rover or some shit like that. She just flipped him off as he drove away, earning her a stern look from one of the officers still on the lot.

Maureen and Joanne walked in silence to Joanne's car before Maureen burst out, "Can you believe him!? I _hate_ Benny, he's just such an ass! He storms into my performance with half the police in New York, looking for a reason to start a fight! And they ruined it- they completely ruined it! It was supposed to be a _peaceful_ protest."

Joanne sighed. "I know."

"Who does he think he is, coming in here like that?!"

"Your friend's landlord, a man who owns the lot he plans on turning into a studio."

"Whatever."

Joanne just drove on silently. Maureen started up again.

"You know what? I bet he just felt threatened by the message I was sending, going against his plans and revealing his true motives and cruel treatment of the homeless. He didn't want his reputation for Cyber-crap to be hurt, but this is just gonna reflect on him!" She was working herself up. "Who's gonna invest in a guy who has police beat up homeless people?! Benny's a jerk!"

"His plan for the Cyber arts Studio is actually a pretty wise investment move for him to be making." Joanne observed mildly. Maureen turned to look at her with anguished disbelief.

"You're on his side?!" She demanded.

"No! I'm not on anyone's side, I was just saying-"

"After what he did tonight-"

"He didn't actually _do_ anything himself, though he obviously needs to work on his public relations." Joanne laughed a little bit. "You're right- he's not going to receive much support if he goes about making the shift this way."

"I can't believe you. You're on his side."

"Maureen, come on. I'm just looking at his plans from a business perspective."

"Whatever Joanne." She was silent, glaring ahead at the road, then waved her hand. "Stop, stop! The Life is right here."

Joanne pulled up, then looked at the restaurant skeptically. "This is it?"

"Yeah." Maureen was defensive, her tone sharp. "Not classy enough for you? I forgot- you don't eat anywhere that hasn't been featured in _Fine Dining_."

"Maureen, really! Let's stop, ok? Let's have a nice dinner with your friends."

Maureen just pushed past her into the Life Café. The room was abuzz with noise, laughing and chattering groups of people sitting everywhere. Stepping into this room full of love and warmth and noise normally would've soothed her, but right now she was only looking for one person. Roger, to see what his date looked like. Then her eyes landed on someone else. She strode right up to his table, ignoring the startled looks of the two men next to him.

"How dare you! You can't just show up here after what just happened!"

"Maureen-" Benny began.

"I don't want to hear it Benjamin Coffin III. You shouldn't dare show your face around here- you are our enemy. _The enemy of Avenue A_," She finished dramatically.

Before he could respond, Joanne was at her side, steering her to the long group of joined tables in the middle of the room. "Come on, Maureen. Let's greet the gang." She gave an apologetic smile to the businessmen at Benny's table as they walked away.

Maureen smiled as the others cheerfully welcomed her to the table, beaming at the praise she received for her spirited performance. She even gave Mark a kiss on the cheek once he told her the good news about that night's footage. Imagine- her protest featured on television! With a triumphant holler, she ordered another round of drinks and sank into Joanne's one-armed embrace. A comfortable buzz settled over her mind as she took in the warm gathering of friends. The long table was filled with people- she didn't know all of them, but she recognized most. Her gaze drifted down the row of people sitting opposite her. Mark, who was already halfway through his drink, was looking happy as he told some story, his hands moving a bit spastically to gesture and demonstrate his words. She was glad to see him so relaxed, so carefree looking. He was usually so concerned with Roger.

Roger! Right, she had to see him… Maureen sat up, and craned her neck to peer down the table. There he was, sitting beside a girl… whose face was obscured by the passing of fries and ketchup across the table. Maureen bit her lip, impatient to see the woman's face, but then she –it had to be Mimi! – stood up. Roger stood with her, his body in the way, covering her from Maureen's gaze, and they took each other's hands and left the café.

Damn! Maureen frowned at the exit they had left through. She still hadn't seen her face, but she had seen the curly dark brown hair, loose over the denim jacket the short girl had been wearing.

"Maureen? You ok?"

She turned to Joanne, who was smiling a bit tipsily at her. "Fine, Pookie."

"Give me a kiss."

Maureen acquiesced, and ended up getting lost in the scent of Joanne's lotion, enjoying the assertiveness with which Joanne pulled her onto her lap.

A throat cleared behind her. She turned to see Benny standing, looking distinctly uncomfortable as the two official looking men frowned at her and Joanne. She smirked, laying her head across Joanne's chest.

"We're sisters."

They looked scandalized as they left the restaurant, casting looks of disapproval back at her the whole time. She and Joanne were laughing so hard, and then her attention was caught by Collins' whistle of approval directed at something else. Maureen turned to see Roger making out with someone…

Mimi!

Maureen abruptly stood, and took a moment to visually assess Mimi before she moved any closer. She looked the petite girl up and down. The Hispanic woman wore a denim coat over her short dress, her legs shapely in their torn fishnets. Her face was all made-up, especially her large brown eyes. It looked as though she'd gone to sleep with her makeup on, her glittery eye shadow smudged into her eyeliner. Mimi didn't seem to notice Maureen's scrutiny- she just looked into Roger's eyes, smiling and pressed her lips back to his. That was enough of that. Maureen marched on over to the couple.

"I don't think we've officially met!" They broke apart, looking at her. Roger scowled as soon as he saw it was Maureen. Mark was beside them too, looking apprehensive. He gave Maureen a warning looks, wordlessly pleading for her not to make a scene. She went on anyways, sticking out her hand.

"Mimi, nice to meet you. I'm Maureen."

"Mark's turned-lesbian ex-girlfriend!" Mimi was laughing as she shook Maureen's hand. "I've heard about you."

"Oh?" Maureen glanced at Roger. His face betrayed nothing. Maureen returned her gaze to Mimi. "Really?"

Mimi nodded, but a beeper went off in her pocket. "Oops!" She giggled, sharing a look with Roger, who only smiled half-heartedly back. Mimi glanced back at Maureen with an apologetic smile. She held up a finger. "Could you give me a moment?"

She turned to Roger, who wordlessly passed her a glass of water. Mimi pulled out a small container of pills and counted out three into her hand. She took them, one by one, then drank down the water. Maureen watched, frowning with puzzlement as Mimi went through this routine. Roger stood with his arm around his girlfriend's waist, glaring at Maureen as if daring her to say something- anything- about this odd self-medication Mimi was doing. "Thanks, baby." Mimi kissed Roger quickly on the lips, smiling at him as he looked down at her and wiped away a trickle of water from the corner of her mouth.

"You already took yours?" Mimi asked sweetly. Roger nodded. Maureen's confusion suddenly broke to understanding.

_Perfect for each other_, Mark had said. Now Maureen understood.

"Wait. You have A-" Maureen had never been one for subtlety, but Roger cut her off before she could finish the statement.

"Yeah, she does. You have a problem with that?" Mimi looked at Roger, evidently startled by his tone of voice.

"No, I really just didn't kn-" Maureen quickly tried to backtrack, afraid.

"Because unless you're sleeping with her or using her needles, it's none of your business!" He spat. "You think you're better than her? You don't know anything about her!"

"Roger, earlier, I really didn't know!" Maureen tried to explain herself, and wished she could take back all the things he had said about his new girlfriend. "When I said that, I never would've guessed-"

"Guessed what? That she was the filthy little whore you thought she was, crawling with STDs? Because I guess you were right, so you must feel really good now, huh?"

"Roger!" Mimi sounded about ready to cry, but Roger didn't seem to notice.

"But I don't care, I love her, and she is ten times better than you, with your car and your apartment, your protests and your healthy body-"

"Roger, stop!" Mark pushed Roger back. Roger had left Mimi's side and was now advancing on Maureen, who was shaking her head and sobbing.

"I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know!"

"Roger! Baby, please!" Mimi clung to his arm, turning his head to face her. "Roger, stop."

"You don't understand what she said!"

"I don't care what she said! I don't care what she said or what she thinks of me. Let's go home. Can we just go home?"

"I can't- you don't understand. I'm leaving."

Mimi grabbed her coat. "Well I'm coming with you."

"You're not-"

"Yes I am. We need to talk."

They left a short minute later, Mimi kissing Angel on the cheek goodbye before grabbing her purse and rushing after Roger.

Most of the party hadn't noticed the commotion, but Maureen could feel Mark's accusing eyes on her throughout the rest of the meal. She ignored him, and pushed aside Joanne's inquiry about Roger and Mimi's departure with a rough kiss.

"Let's go home," She suggested, smiling invitingly at her girlfriend. Typically, Joanne would be more suspicious about Maureen's sudden mood change, but she was in such good spirits- the cocktails hadn't hurt- that she took the hint without any questions. With a raised eyebrow, Joanne asked for their bill and hurriedly signed the check.

They said their quick goodbyes, though Maureen was a bit unsettled when she bade Angel farewell. The drag queen was not as warm in her hug, not as heartfelt in her endearments (_Great protest sweetie, you were amazing!_) and Maureen wondered for a moment how much Angel had witnessed of the scene between herself, Roger and Mimi. Maybe it was just the sickness that was making her less affectionate, Maureen thought to herself.

Joanne grabbed Maureen's arm and all but dragged her outside. Maureen was startled when Joanne's hands found their way into her back pockets as they began kissing outside the restaurant, but she responded quickly, winding her arms around Joanne's neck. Though rather shaken by the night's events, Maureen was pleased- she was needed and wanted and cared for. At least Joanne was hers.

For now.

Author's Note:

Okay, it's tough because I have so many chapters written ahead, but then I need to connect them at least a little bit… But anyways, I PROMISE that this fic will be completed. I might even tack on an extra chapter of little snippets that apply to this story but I didn't find room for. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Back to this chapter-

Takes place during RENT! Yay! And the story goes pretty AU after this, but I managed to fit some of the play's happenings into this bit.

These things aren't right after each other (I don't know if that's obvious, I hope so) there's time in between chapters.

As always, if you have any questions (or you just wanna say hi and talk RENT) please PM me! :) (jeez, I hope I'm not sounding too desperate).

OH! OH!

I CAN'T FORGET TO TELL YOU!

I saw RENT last night [Friday 23rd] with Adam and Anthony *swoon* and I got Anthony's signature *screams with delight and joy and breathless amazement before she swoons again* after it was over and I bought myself a RENT t-shirt and the libretto and I also got Gwen Stewart's signature (she was so down to earth and really kind, and when the people next to me didn't have a pen, Gwen fished around in her own purse for one, setting it on the wall beside me) and Nicolette Hart's. Unfortunately, I didn't share a special moments with Anthony (I mean, of course any moment with him- just being near him- is extraordinarily special, but he didn't make eye contact, dammit!) but I got a pic of him with my aunt's phone and this whole weekend, I've been stopping and re-living the moments… breathless moments… of being near to him…. *Sigh*

Reviews, if you please?


	5. After the Funeral

CHAPTER 5

**Disclaimer- I own RENT Libretto, I own the 2-disc Movie, and I own a copy of Anthony Rapp's book "Without You", but that is as far as any ownership I may have over RENT goes.**

Angel had been wonderful, spinning, drumming lively. Angel had been inspirationally creative and true to herself. Maureen had always admired how comfortable Angel was in her skin, how unafraid Angel was to skip and hop over sidewalk lines and spin joyously and be affectionate. Angel was _herself_. She was open and free with her emotions, unlike Maureen. Angel had been the colorful thread, holding together the scraps of different fabric that made up their family.

Now that she was gone, the pieces of cloth were fluttering away, being lost to the winds.

Maureen hadn't seen much of Roger or Mimi since the funeral. Even then, the interaction was minimal. Brief eye contact, an awkward pat on the arm, and resentful glare that was dully returned. Roger had surprised Maureen by nodding to her briefly after she spoke at the service. Neither she nor Mimi acknowledged each other, but Maureen couldn't deny the pang of pity when she saw Mimi's red eyes. She hadn't realized how close the stripper had been with Angel, but Mark had informed her in a low murmur that the two had known each other for years before.

Maureen was startled by Joanne's graveside confrontation after the ceremony, but wasn't too preoccupied to not notice the scene between Roger, Mimi and Benny. She and Joanne cut off their bickering when Maureen stepped in to defend Mimi from Benny's possessiveness. Something was happening between the stripper and Roger and Benny. It wasn't her place to step in, but when Maureen saw Benny move forward to pull Mimi away, telling her in a low voice to stop talking to Roger, Maureen had to go forward. She told him rather fiercely to back off. Roger distractedly sent her a look of surprised gratitude before turning his attention back to Mimi.

Of course, Joanne used that moment to point out some more of Maureen's flaws, calling her nosy and bossy- "always sticking your nose in other people's business!" - but Maureen ignored her. She watched with interest as Roger moved away from Mimi, who ended up leaving with Benny. Mark called Maureen the next day, and informed her that Roger had left later that night, heading to Santa Fe.

She and Joanne made up, but it didn't last long.

They had all been at the end of their rope, barely speaking to each other since Angel died. Maureen had hoped that after the funeral she would have someone to rely on, someone to comfort and hold her securely. She had hoped that it would help bring her and Joanne back together, and for a while it did. But then the two women got too comfortable with each other, and Maureen didn't feel _needed_. Joanne worked too much, and left Maureen home alone, bored. She didn't feel valued. But then, they had problems whenever they went out. Maureen would get back at her girlfriend for neglecting her. Just to make her nervous, just to remind Joanne that Maureen wasn't someone to be taken for granted, Maureen would let another woman put an arm around her waist, or would ignore Joanne and wander off to talk to some pretty blonde, or if she really wanted to piss off Joanne, Maureen would flirt with a man.

So they weren't doing too well. But Maureen also heard about problems with Roger and Mimi from her phone calls with Mark (she loved being on the phone with her ex when Joanne came home from work and besides, Mark had grown pretty lonely with Roger being gone). Maureen didn't bother to disguise her pleasure at hearing of their relationship issues. Mimi and Benny? What drama! Mimi on smack? No way! It was exciting and shocking and scandalous, and Maureen loved to hear _all_ about it. It made her feel better to know that she and Joanne weren't the only ones struggling to stay together.

Yet, she felt… bad, as well. Mimi may be a cheating, infected drug addict, but Maureen heard that since Roger left, the stripper had been getting sicker. Mark reported that Mimi had grown paler, her once tan skin stretched over a thin frame. Maureen was taken aback by this weakness and felt concern for the girl. She was young, too, from what Mark said, and was already wasting away from the disease of the Big City. It reminded Maureen too much of herself, and brought out unexpected compassion and sympathy. The nineteen year old was infected and rotting, her youth destroyed by the corrupt city, eating her from the inside out. It made Maureen think of her own crushed ideals- though that was as far as she let the comparison go between herself and Mimi.

Now, Mark had just called to talk to her, checking in. He was sad. She could tell by the subdued way he spoke, the pauses and barely audible sighs between bits of conversation. Maureen closed her eyes and silently damned Roger for making Mark feel that bad, for bailing out on his friend who was still reeling in pain and shock from Angel's death. She damned him for leaving wounded women in his wake, Mimi suffering alone (though she wasn't completely alone, if Mark's speculations on her and his landlord were correct) and Maureen, just as bitter and hurt as ever. She damned him for being able to escape so easily, while she was tied down to the City, with Joanne and Mark and Collins and the feeling of familiarity she had with the place.

Mark sighed again on the other line and mumbled something about maybe filming that day, even though he hadn't gotten any good footage for a few days now. Maureen scoffed, knowing very well that he'd probably only go so far as to take out his camera before setting it back down. There was no way he'd leave the loft today, not with his spirits as low as they were. No. She would _not_ let him have another evening of self-pity, holed up by himself in that freezing loft.

"I'm coming over." She said decisively.

"What?"

"I'll bring popcorn and some candy if you don't have any. Licorice too. And chocolate ice cream."

"Uh, no. I think-"

"Unless you already have some?"

"Actually, no, but do you really want- "

She exasperatedly huffed over the phone at him. "Pookie, don't you remember those classic films you used to always talk about? The black and white ones? I don't think you ever showed them to me."

"What? Oh yeah, you're right…" He thought a moment. "You really want to come over?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a few. Bye."

She hung up, then announced, "Going out!"

Joanne's voice came from their room. "Excuse me?"

"I said, I'm going out. Is that okay, _Mother_?" Maureen went to the room. Joanne was seated cross-legged on the bed, her laptop in front of her, typing as she glanced between the screen and the pile of documents next to her. Joanne paused for a moment to look up at Maureen and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Where are you going?"

"I said I was going out."

Joanne's eyes narrowed. "Who is it? Jill? Sandra? The girl from that club?"

"No!"

"Then who?"

"No one. You're just _paranoid_." Maureen rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't be if you stopped picking up on every girl you see."

"I can't help it if you overreact to everything I do! I'm just polite, I make pleasant conversation."

"Pleasantly stripping to show off your new bra?" Joanne's sarcasm was biting. Knowing there was no justification, Maureen decided to ignore that reference to the last time they went out.

"What do you want? An apology? Want me to stay holed up here and never go out, never do anything or have any fun?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" Joanne closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her temples. She took a deep breath. "Look, you're going out. _Fine_. I just want to know where you're going."

"I'm just going by Mark's."

"Oh?" The lawyer immediately crossed her arms, suspicious and distrustful. "Why? Change your mind about him?"

"No!" This was why Maureen never told Joanne anything. Well, this and because she loved keeping Joanne edgy, needy, uncertain of where she stood with Maureen. "I'm just going to keep him company. You know how lonely he's been since Roger left."

"I understand, but Maureen, it is not your responsibility to constantly make sure that Mark's ok. He's a grown man, he can look after himself." Joanne lowered her eyes and added. "It seems like you're always going out."

"Do you think I want to be stuck in this house with you all day? All you do is work! I'm just in the way."

Joanne looked like she felt guilty. "That's not true."

"It is too! I'm going now. I'm not sticking around for this."

Maureen went to leave, but Joanne stood between her and the door. She put her hands on Maureen's shoulders when she tried to go around.

"Maureen, please-"

"What?" She tried to push past her, but Joanne held her arms.

"I don't want you to go like this. Honeybear, I'm sorry. I know that you and Mark aren't-"

Maureen just leaned forward, roughly pushing her lips against Joanne's. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to work things out. She didn't want Joanne to trust her, because she wasn't trustworthy. Sure, she and Mark weren't up to anything, but Maureen had plans to stop at a club on the way home. Joanne shouldn't forgive her like this, trust her like this, love her like this. Maureen didn't deserve it.

Joanne's arms wrapped around Maureen, but before she could be pulled further into the room, Maureen pulled away.

"Leaving." She nipped playfully at Joanne's lower lip before stepping away. Joanne looked into her eyes, searching, still slightly suspicious. Joanne wanted to be able to trust her.

"Fine." She said with a sigh, letting Maureen slip out of the room.

* * *

Maureen walked to visit Mark. She had the ice cream and popcorn in a grocery bag, but held the open bag of red licorice in her hands. She glanced down at the half empty package with a rueful smile.

There might not even be any left by the time she got to the loft. But then again, it was half full, right? She smiled at her uncharacteristic optimism, sucking the sweet red dye off her fingertips.

She stepped off the curb, crossing, only a block away from the loft. Maureen looked up and saw something that made her stop. Mimi was talking to a man, leaning close to him, her hands even reaching out to desperately clutch the front of his jacket. It was a guy Maureen saw around the streets a lot, always surrounded by a huddle of pleading junkies.

Maureen put her licorice away in her bag, watching as the man pushed Mimi away. Mimi trailed after him anyways, needy and unrelenting until he at last gave in. Maureen watched as the man leaned forward, reaching one hand into his pocket before sliding whatever he withdrew into Mimi's hand. Mimi thanked him with a nod, already hurrying away with her prize in her hands. Maureen didn't know whether to feel pity or disgust for the younger woman. Maureen followed her down the remainder of the block, walking quickly to keep up with the scurrying stripper, but at the same time, careful to stay a distance behind her. She waited for Mimi to go up the fire escape first before she followed. Mimi's door slammed shut and all Maureen could do was peer curiously at the closed door before continuing up to Mark.

* * *

A few hours later, Maureen was waiting back outside. Of course Joanne was reluctant to let her walk home by herself- the problem wasn't that it was dark and Maureen couldn't defend herself, but that Maureen was more than likely to come home a couple of hours late, slipping silently in, smelling like a bar. So Joanne firmly offered to pick Maureen up, and of course Maureen didn't have a valid reason to refuse.

She felt pleased with herself- Mark had certainly seemed to be in a better mood when she left than when she had arrived. Maybe she hadn't quite _appreciated_ the films they'd watched as much as he had, but it was nice to be back in the Loft. There was an undeniable comfort she had associated with the place, in spite of all the anxiety and unhappy times she had spent there.

After a few moments in the near dark (the lights were bright, but not bright enough- not in this part of the City), Maureen was joined by someone else outside. Mimi, wearing her high leather boots and a short dress, walked quickly down the block, not even noticing Maureen. She turned at the corner, where a Range Rover was idling on the street. She entered the passenger-side of the car. The car drove by, and Maureen laughed to herself a bit bitterly when she saw it was Benny driving. Roger should've never left town- it only gave Mimi the chance to run back to Benny.

Maureen tried to push away the creeping feeling of concern she felt- for Mimi and her struggle with addiction and disease- and the concern she felt for Roger- how he'd feel when he found out about Mimi's unfaithfulness. But he left, remember? It was his own fault for leaving to Santa Fe, right? Again, Maureen had to remind herself- it wasn't her problem.

**Author's Note: Yeah… not the best place to leave off, I understand that. But I wanted to get something posted. I hope that I haven't sacrificed any quality in the hurry (I'm sure you're like "hurry? What hurry? It's been a while since she's gotten a chapter up!" but I AM trying to update quickly, otherwise I might lose readers/ lose interest/move on to something else/get discouraged).**

**Anyhoot, reviews, if you please?**


	6. Welcome Back

**CHAPTER 6**

**Author's disclaimer- This was hard, because initially, this was the only chapter I had written after the first one. I wrote them at the same time, so this has been sitting on Microsoft Word for a few months while I wrote all the in-between chapters. Naturally, I had to trim it up a bit, make slight adjustments so that it fit in nicely with the previous chapters. I didn't comb through it _too_ thoroughly though, so if there are any inconsistencies, please let me know! (and just ignore them, because they don't figure into the story anymore). Also because this was written way back when, my explanation at the end is redundant, re-stating some things we've already established, but oh well.**

**Disclaimer-**

**Dear Jonathon Larson,**

**Thank you for this wonderful piece of work, with such interesting, developed characters and wonderful music for people to connect with. I'm so grateful to you for writing RENT, bringing new spirit to musical theater and showing the thriving life and love and art that continues in the face of hardships such as AIDS, poverty, and the struggles and uncertain future both of those things bring. It's a beautiful play.**

**And here it is!**

* * *

"I don't know what your problem is- just because you and Joanne are having problems doesn't mean you have to be such a bitch my friend."

Mark's face was flushed with annoyance. He had pulled her out of the Life Café after she made a particularly biting remark about Roger's past. Now they stood outside the restaurant, shivering slightly. The heavy November air lifted the ends of Maureen's dark hair, blowing the smoke from her lit cigarette and making Mark's eyes blink and water behind his dark-framed glasses.

She glared at him a bit resentfully. After almost two months of their regular phone calls and comforting visits, Mark had stopped calling, stopped checking in, stopped needing her at all once his roommate came back. Roger had returned to waiting arms and welcoming smiles, no one holding it against him that he had abandoned them with their misery and mourning. He'd actually been back for a week before Mark had enough money to treat everyone to dinner in celebration (though Maureen and Joanne insisted on helping with the bill). Maureen's barely-restrained bitterness had finally shone through, and she had ruined the mood of Roger's "Welcome Back Party".

Maureen shrugged, outwardly unaffected, inwardly seething.

"I don't know what you're talking about Mark. Stop acting all weird."

She laughed then, hoping he'd drop it. He didn't.

"_I'm_ acting weird? I'm not, Maureen. Even while we were together, you were rude to Roger. I'm not the only one to notice."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Maureen snapped. Her hand was on her hip, and she was squinting at him, really annoyed now. Mark fumbled a moment, then cursed when he couldn't come up with a specific example.

"I don't know, just…these little things, like the way you snap at him for no good reason, put him down, give him these dirty looks, and you're always shooting him these jabs about when he was on drugs."

"He used to be a freaking junkie, Mark. I can't respect someone who did that to themselves and to the people around them."

He was staring at her, bewildered.

"I don't understand!" Mark cried. "You didn't even know him back then. I mean, you and me got together right as he was getting off drugs. Sure, maybe he was a little difficult the first few weeks, but he's a nice guy. He had it tough remember? You weren't there, you don't know what it was like for him-"

Mark's voice softened into that tone he took when he was defending Roger, but Maureen cut across him.

"I don't give a shit, Mark. I've heard it all before."

"Why do act like you hate him?" Mark's voice rose, and she could see the frustration and confusion in his eyes. "You never got used to him when we were all living together, and he tried to be nice."

Maureen rolled her eyes. She had hated living there, with them. Collins wasn't too bad; in fact, he had helped enlighten her by opening her up to some social issues she hadn't been aware of. And Benny was all right, but he left within the week of her arrival, though Mark assured her that she wasn't the problem. And Mark was sweet, but Roger…she had hated living with him.

"No he didn't! He was so fucking self-absorbed in his misery, his guitar, his former rock star glory- 'poor Roger, so angsty and misunderstood!' "

"His girlfriend _died_, Maureen. She died and left him with nothing but a freaking deadly disease to remember her by. I think he had a right to be depressed."

"Yeah, well he should've thought better than to go shooting up with her. Why should I be constantly dancing around Roger's feelings? It's not my fault he chose to screw some groupie who was into drugs, is it? Not my fault that she gave him AIDS, then killed herself when she couldn't take it anymore!"

Mark stared at her.

"Have a heart, Maureen. April's dead."

"Yeah, if I was Roger's girlfriend, I'd kill myself, too!"

"Maureen," Mark's eyes went wide as he tried to stop her. "Don't-"

"No, don't try to shut me up! I am so goddamn tired of 'Oh, so sad, he's still mourning his stupid dead girlfriend', and you know what? She sounded like a bitch, Mark. She left him-"

"Who're we talking about?"

Maureen froze as Mark made eye contact with someone behind her, over her shoulder. _Damn._ After all this time, his voice still sent chills of dread down her spine. Taking a breath, she battled the instinctive terror that threatened the contents of her stomach, and her anger won out.

"No one," Mark said, his eyes on the ground.

"Maureen?" Roger's voice was tightly controlled, but she could tell that he knew very well whom they'd been speaking of.

"Nothing." She blew her cigarette smoke into his face, then added, "But, um, Roger, didn't you come out the wrong door? The drug dealers usually don't hang out in front of the Life Café, they're in the back, remember? The alleys."

"Would you stop?" hissed Mark.

"Whatever Maureen." Roger's dull tone quieted her for a moment, then she started up again.

"Hey, wasn't the anniversary of May's death-"

"April." Roger's voice was wounded as he corrected her.

"June!" Maureen snapped back, teasing, though her voice lacked any good-naturedness. He flinched at her cruel joke.

"The anniversary of her death was a few days ago, right?" Neither one of the men answered. Didn't matter- she didn't need them to. "Yeah, it was- we were all tiptoeing around you Rog, remember? Good thing you came back in time." Her mouth was running on, and something bad was coming, something mean. "Well I was thinking- why don't you do something romantic and get a bag of heroin for her too? You can go shooting up sitting on her gravestone."

That time, even Maureen was shocked by the words that came out of her mouth. She didn't have time to take them back though, because Roger suddenly had his hands on her- _those hands those hands were touching her_- holding her against the wall by her shoulders- _touching her again after all this time_- his face twisted with anger and pain- _how dare he how dare he_!

"Keep April out of this! If you have a problem with me-"

"Get your hands off me!" Maureen was screaming, tears suddenly pouring out of her eyes. "Don't you ever fucking dare to touch me again, you-"

"Maureen, what on earth is going on here? Roger! Mark, can you explain?"

It was Joanne. Maureen writhed out of Roger's grip- it was easy, he let go as soon as Joanne stepped out. She only vaguely heard Mark's stuttering explanation, though Joanne still didn't understand.

"Maureen, why-?"

She took off running, and heard Joanne sigh. "Don't go after her, Mark."

Roger growled, "She's crazy- a fucking crazy bitch."

Maureen had been a runner in track back at the high school- it was unladylike, her mother couldn't stand it, and she could leave everything behind when she ran, at least for a while.

Maureen stomped up the fire escape stairs of a nearby building across the street. It was worn and graffitied, but all the buildings were in this part of the city. The metal grating creaked as she climbed, but she didn't care. Maybe it would lurch and fall and she'd tumble and break and bleed and die on the ground below. She'd be in the paper, maybe with a small photo and a nice caption. Maybe Roger would remember what he'd done to her and feel terrible when he realized all that he'd put her through. Things would be less complicated for her. She wouldn't have to fake! Smile! Bright energized vibrant living Maureen-play anymore.

Her breath was exhaled into a cloud of thin wet that hung in the dark cool air before it spread and disappeared. Goddamned tears. Maureen wiped at her sticky wet cheeks and sighed.

She didn't really want to die. Life was still worth it, worth the complicated entanglement that she had gotten herself into. Who would've thought- she had dated her rapist's best friend, got shockingly attached, then dumped him as soon as a sometimes sweet, very no-nonsense but ultimately sexy lawyer caught her eye. Oh, and the lawyer had been Joanne, a female. Though her friends had all been startled, Maureen had known about her own bisexuality, even if her past attractions to girls had been limited to silent, presumably unrequited, crushes.

God, things _were_ complicated.

It didn't matter though. She could handle it- she would get through it. She was _Maureen_.

She peered over the edge and searched with her eyes until she could see them outside the Life Café. She watched the group of them, the small huddle of people outside the restaurant's glowing windows. Joanne went back into the warm building, but Mark and Roger were still standing outside. Roger was leaning against the wall. Mark's hands were stuffed into his pockets, and his pale face gleamed light in the shadows of the street and surrounding buildings.

Suddenly the door opened, and a skinny Latina girl with too much makeup on her starving face and a fluffy faux-fur coat that couldn't quite hide her shivers stepped outside. Mimi reached out to Roger, who pulled away sharply as she tried to put her arms around him. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking sad and weak. Her mouth opened and began moving- Maureen was too far away to try to read her lips, she just watched as Roger threw his hands into the air and gestured across the street, probably describing Maureen's departure. Mimi had one hand on her hip now, frowning at him and shaking her head. Maureen was curious about what they were saying now, and decided to move closer. Maureen crept down the stairs and moved into the shadows of the alley back across the street. She could see them better now that she was nearer. None of them noticed her. She closed her eyes and focused on the conversation she could now hear clearly.

"What's going on Roger? Can't we all have a nice gathering without the drama?"

"Don't talk to _me_ about it- talk to Maureen! She's fucking crazy."

"But what happened?"

He mumbled.

"I can't hear you Roger."

"I said, 'Nothing'! She was just trying to pick a fight."

"Well, judging by the way you look and the fact that she ran off, you gave her one!"

"You don't know what she said."

"Then tell me!" Mimi pleaded. "All I know is that one minute, everything was fine, we were all talking, and the next, it's all quiet and you're looking ready to kill somebody and Mark suddenly drags Maureen outside. You followed and so did Joanne, and then Joanne comes back in looking all flustered and orders herself two more cocktails. Now tell me, what did Maureen say?"

"Nothing."

"Maybe you're just overreacting."

"I am not!"

"Then what-"

"It was about April."

Mimi turned to gape at Mark, who looked apologetically to Roger after he spoke. After glaring at Mark, Roger kicked the side of the building, and lowered his eyes.

"April?" Mimi sounded surprised.

"Maureen was just…I don't know. Bitching about what an asshole I was when I used to do drugs, then she started in on April, and I…"

"I'm sorry Roger."

He didn't answer. Mimi stepped closer to him.

"Honey…"

"Stop." His voice was flat.

Mimi turned to Mark, looking clueless about what to do. He shrugged, shaking his head, then held a hand out to Mimi, who took it. She shakily stepped closer to him, and Mark put his arm over her shoulders, then they walked inside.

Maureen sighed, feeling a surge of fondness for her ex-boyfriend.

Poor Mark. Poor sweet clueless Mark. He had no idea what was going on. He though he knew, but he really didn't.

And Joanne, who was just as uncertain about their relationship as she was about what had transpired that night. Maureen honestly didn't know if they'd work out. They lived completely different lifestyles.

And Roger. Stupid Roger. She watched him as he peered inside the café's window, looking alone and sad. He lit himself a cigarette, and took a long drag off of it. Suddenly, he looked at the lit cigarette in his head and shook his head. He quickly dropped it to the ground and stepped on the ember, then went back inside.

She hated Roger. He had hurt her so much- in the worst way a woman could be hurt- and didn't even remember that night enough to feel remorse.

Still, Maureen felt just a little bit guilty too. It was strange, but since Roger didn't remember, it was almost as if someone else, another man, had done that to her. As far as Roger knew, they had only met through Mark. He probably was bewildered as to why she disliked him- no, hated him.

Of course she hated Roger.

Maureen shook her head. She was back where she started.

And who had this April been? What had been so wonderful about her that Roger had taken her home and kept her and hadn't cast her aside after one night? He must've loved her. She must've been something special.

You are special, she reminded herself.

Not special enough.

With a sigh, Maureen walked out into the street, and continued down the block. She needed a bar tonight, and someone to buy her drinks. Someone tall maybe, someone dressed nice. She knew a place where the businessmen go after work, and after reapplying her lipstick, and fluffing up her hair (using a shop window for a mirror), she hailed a taxi and climbed on in.


	7. Ready

CHAPTER 7

A/N: I'm sorry I haven't posted in so long, and this is sort of a short chapter. I've got the next one ready, so there won't be much of a wait on that. Thank you for being patient! :)

Disclaimer- I have NO ownership over RENT, its music, or any of the characters.

"So, um, what did you want to talk about? Collins?" Maureen wasn't used to spending time alone with him, but when he asked her to come with him for some coffee one morning, she had no reason to object. Here she sat, legs crossed tightly, looking anything but relaxed as she faced him across a small table that held both of their steaming beverages. He laughed at her obvious discomfort.

"Chill, Maureen. I just wanted to talk, hang out with you. For all the time we see each other, we never really talk one on one."

"Yeah, I guess not." She was still a bit jittery, and the coffee wasn't helping. Leaving a red lipstick mark on the edge of her cup, she set it back down. She frowned at it. "They really shouldn't use Styrofoam. It's so bad for the environment, and I'm sure companies like this go through hundreds of thousands every day."

Collins just nodded his head slowly, watching her with the hints of what might have been smile hovering over his lips. "You're right. You should write to the company and tell them that you don't approve."

"Maybe I will." She sat, still somewhat uncomfortable. Maureen wasn't as on edge as she would be if, say,_ Roger,_ was there, because she really had no reason to be afraid of Collins. But being put on the spot like this made her nervous- on a stage, set apart from the audience, she could come to life and bring their energy levels up with hers, but a one on one with a person was different. She felt bad that she wasn't completely open with Collins though- she admired him and his views, and she felt a warmth towards him, especially since Angel had passed away. _Angel… is that what this was about? But why had he wanted to talk to Maureen of all people?_

"Is this about Angel?" She asked.

Collins raised an eyebrow at her but shook his head slightly. He was quiet for several still moments. "Not… really. She did say something about it though- she said to me the night of your protest that something was going on between you and Roger, you and Mimi. I think she was concerned because she wanted you to get along well with Mimi. She didn't like conflict within the family."

Maureen bit back her snippy reply about how there had been plenty of conflict with Roger and his drugs and needles and dead girlfriend, but just nodded curtly instead. "Well, I hope I didn't upset Angel at all. I wouldn't have wanted to offend her."

He gave her a look. "You're not in trouble, Maureen. I just want to know what's going on."

She shrugged quickly. "Nothing. I don't know what you were talking about." For an absurd moment, she wanted to tell him everything. No. She had to control that part of her because she couldn't –_couldn't_- tell anyone.

"I don't really understand you sometimes, girl. Seriously, if there's something going on, talk to us. We care about you." He studied her, and it was almost painful for her to hold back. She forced herself to shrug again. He shook his head at that.

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Maybe there is. We all have our secrets, Collins. It's not really any of your business."

He reacted mildly to her attitude. "There's no need to get so defensive, Maureen. I'm not trying to pry, I'm just concerned about you."

"Well don't be."

"Alright, this is turning into something else. I don't want you to get upset. All I'm trying to say is, if you ever need to talk, I'm always here."

She finished sipping her coffee. "I know."

In the minutes of silence that followed, Maureen felt bad for snapping at him, realizing his good intentions. "Sorry for being so touchy."

He looked up at her and laughed at the guilt in her tone and said, "Don't be sorry! It's just your way. You can't help it."

She shrugged in agreement, though privately wondering if it was true. The thing was, she _could_ help it. She wasn't always so defensive and closed to those around her. She used to be laughing, free, without all the secrets. Maureen was sick of pretending. On impulse, she leaned forward.

"Collins?"

"Yeah?"

"There _is_ something… but I can't tell you now. Seriously, it's a big deal."

He eyed her curiously. "Okay… when do I get to hear it?"

Heart thumping, Maureen went on. This was reckless, but she had to get it out. "I need you to help me get all the gang together. I don't want to have to tell this over again, just once, and I want everyone to be there."

Collins' eyes were serious as he nodded slowly. "Alright, I can help get them all together."

* * *

Ok, maybe her sudden willingness to talk was a bit abrupt, but I need to get things going. Next chapter soon! Like, in the next few days! YAY! Gut-spilling and confessions to come soon.

Reviews, please?


	8. The Truth

**Call me desperate, but is it too much to ask for at least two new reviews per chapter? I hope not. Actually, I'm starting to worry that there aren't many (if any) readers following this story. If ANYONE is reading this, please review! Tell me what you like, what you don't. Do you think it seems possible, or outright ridiculous? Do you hate my Roger, or do you feel that he isn't really in the wrong because he "wasn't himself" that night? Does my Maureen get on your nerves? Comments, even a little note to say, "Hey, I'm still reading!" would be so nice to receive. I would threaten to withhold chapters until I got more reviews, but I almost fear that no one would care if I updated or not.**

**CHAPTER 8**

"Maureen, what's going on? Why do we all have to be here?"

Mark and Roger sat near each other, Collins was kicking back on the armchair looking concerned, and Joanne sat stiffly next to Benny on the couch. Mimi was perched on the arm of the couch, her legs lying over Benny's crossed legs, fishnets over ankle-length khakis. Maureen glanced around at the group of them nervously, then took a breath.

"Ok, then, no more delays. I guess I'd better just get it out, so um, ok…so I know a lot of you know that me and Roger, that…that I have a lot of bad feelings against Roger, for whatever reason. You might've thought that I just, I don't know, didn't take to him, or I was just being bitchy for no good reason. But…I knew him before Mark introduced us. I mean, I didn't _know_ him, but we had met, and uh…"

Roger was staring fixedly at her, his expression unreadable. Mark turned to him, frowning, but Roger just glanced at him briefly with a shrug and shook his head as if to say, "I don't know".

"It was when I had just come to New York. I was seventeen, I had run away from home…Roger's band was playing at the first bar I came to, and I got to meet him after the show…I…I really liked you."

She spoke directly to him, trying not to cry as she thought of her innocent excitement at the flirtation that had occurred between them. Roger's face was blank; his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes fixed on her.

"And, I, um, I thought you liked me too. I mean, you did, you did like me. In fact, we…we went back to your place…"

Shock, then understanding dawned on his face, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it, then opened it again. "But I- I don't remember you- at all."

"Oh, I know. It's cause we had had a few drinks, and this was back when you were…you had obviously been doing something backstage, I mean, your eyes were all clouded and hazy…"

He jerked his head in understanding.

"But when we got back to your place-"

He interrupted. "We didn't-"

"I though you were amazing." She whispered softly. "I thought you were amazing and gorgeous and you actually _liked me_, you thought I was pretty and funny…but…" She knew she had to keep talking, and she tried to keep her voice level. "Something happened. We were at your place and I got scared- it was my first time, and we weren't using protection, and I suddenly saw how high you were. It was like you weren't even really there with me, and I wanted you to stop…"

The room was silent. Maureen didn't dare look up from the spot on her lap she was staring at fixedly. She swallowed back the lump of tears rising in her throat and she found her voice again.

"I wanted you to stop, but you didn't! I'm sorry, I know you didn't mean to, but you hurt me and then you left me all alone in that- that room! I stayed the night, but the next day you were there in the living room on the couch and y-you, you thought I was Mark, then you realized it was just me- just the girl leftover from last night's fun, and you- you didn't even care what you had done to me!"

Maureen closed her eyes, overwhelmed. She took some heaving breaths, trying to calm down.

"I'm _sorry_ Roger." She emphasized. "I'm so sorry, I wouldn't've brought any of this back up if I didn't have to, but I finally figured that I owed you an explanation for why I've treated you the way I do, and…I'm not going to, like call the cops on you or anything, and I know it's not really fair to hold you accountable for what you did, because you obviously weren't in your right state of mind, but that doesn't make it hurt any less!" She was crying again.

Mimi was gaping at her from Benny's lap, then the Latina girl spoke up. "Do you expect me to believe any of this?"

Maureen frowned, wiping her eyes. "What?"

She then looked to Mark, who began talking. "Wh- what are you saying? You can't j-just, just go and make accusations like that!" Mark fumbled in his speech, looking truly furious. "It's one thing to lie about where you were last night or who you've been sleeping with, but you can't just lie about something like this! Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Maureen had been staring at him, stunned by this reaction. Sure, she had expected some shock, and maybe some disbelief, but for Mark to turn around and start attacking her when she had finally come clean with the truth?

"Calm down, Mark." Collins said quickly, but he also looked stunned. He stared at Maureen as though he had never known her. She looked for support and found none. Even Joanne looked too shocked and taken aback to take her side.

"What? What's wrong with me?!? Don't you think I deserve some sympathy? Your fucking best friend raped me Mar-"

"Don't use that word!" Howled Mark, defensive as always when it came to Roger.

"Why not? It's true, he _raped_ me!"

Roger stood on his feet at that, snarling, "I would never-"

Maureen turned to him, her eyes desperate. "Wouldn't you? You remember what you were like back then, what you were capable of, and so do I."

He seemed at a loss for words. He turned away from her. Mimi however, had no trouble at all speaking. "You're crazy!"

"No, I'm not!"

Mark spoke again. "Maureen, if you are making this up-"

"I'm not making this up! Do you want to see the clinic results?" Her voice was raised in defense. "I went to a hospital the next day, I tested for pregnancy and infections, and I kept the reports I got back! You want proof?"

Roger looked at her, eyes wide. "Infections- you're not-?"

"No, I'm not positive." She was quick to reassure him. "This was before you were infected, before you met April."

He looked relieved for a moment, then, still trying to find a way to prove her wrong, roughly asked, "Yeah, but how would you have known that?"

"Because." She spoke clearly, with quiet certainty, remembering what Mark had told her that day when she returned to the loft and saw Roger again. "When Mark and I started going out, April had just died. You weren't together for more than a few months before she killed herself, and I had met you almost a year before. You weren't HIV positive yet."

Mimi stood up. "I don't believe any of this. I don't know what your problem is, but if you think that we're going sit here and let you make these outrageous accusations-"

"You don't _believe_ me? I just told you, I have the documentation stating the injuries I received!" Roger flinched at the insinuation that he had hurt her. "It was nothing too serious, but enough to make a report. What do I have to do, show it to you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I would like to see it, because you have nothing else to back up your story!"

Joanne was speechless in the seat next to Benny, and she watched, wide-eyed, when he finally spoke up. "She's telling the truth."

"What?" Mark, Mimi, and Roger looked at him at once. The stripper even scooted off of his lap, standing with her hands on her hips. Maureen was also surprised, but glad to finally have someone supporting her.

Benny sat up a bit straighter, stretching his legs out, not making eye contact with anyone. "I was living with you guys- Mark, Roger." There was a pause while he sighed. "I remember those days, Rog." He glanced up at the rocker, who stared back fiercely. "You always had someone after every show, but I remember Maureen. You usually didn't let them stay the night, but she was there the next morning. I heard you two talking, before she ran out of there. I don't know man, but-"

"How do you even know this is her? How would you even remember?" Mark demanded, looking startled by this new evidence. Benny heaved a sigh.

"That was the night when me and Alison had just gotten engaged. I was planning on leaving early the next morning. I had my suitcase packed, I had the money I needed, and Alison was ready to tell her father, to hell with the consequences. But when I came out of my room with the suitcase the next morning…" He looked up at Maureen who looked back curiously, fitting his piece in with her story. "You had just gotten up. I dropped my stuff and hid in the kitchen when you came out, but I saw you and you looked like-"

"Hell." If she had felt any stronger, Maureen would have given a twisted smile as she spoke the words. As it was, she remained expressionless.

"I heard you guys talking, and then you took off down the stairs. Roger went back to sleeping off his hangover, and I had my stuff… You know," Benny added as he turned to look at her. "You knocked over my suitcase-"

"When I stubbed my toe." Maureen recalled, nodding her head as his story clicked into place with hers. She glanced down, thinking of the scar on her toe, remembering how she'd only noticed the pain after she had come to a stop, blocks away from the loft. So it had been a suitcase, not a guitar case that she'd accidentally kicked over. Whatever. It had been dark, and she had been too high-strung to notice such details.

"Why'd you stay after that?" Mark asked, looking thoroughly confused. Benny just shrugged, his eyes back on the ground.

"I didn't want you guys to fall apart, and if Roger was getting like that… I just wanted to say around so things didn't get too rough. Alison understood."

"You're saying that she's telling the truth?" Mimi screeched. Benny just opened his hands in a profound gesture that seemed to say everything.

* * *

**Ok, soooo…. I've had this chapter written forever, but right before I posted it I got all hesitant. It's rather melodramatic, but I feel that sort of suits the circumstances, don't you? Sorry about the little tantrum I threw at the top of the page, I was just feeling edgy and uncertain without any substantial feedback (not to dismiss the multiple reviewers from the first chapter, or Orange Green, EB91, CES5410, or "just me" who have all been kind with their reviews in the past chapters).**


	9. Immediate Aftermath

COLLINS' REACTION? BENNY- MAUREEN's NEW ALLY

CHAPTER 9

After it was all out, there wasn't much for anyone to say. Roger took off in a fit, but when Mark had started to go after him, Benny stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"What?" Mark snarled. Benny advised him against following Roger.

"That's a lot for him to take in right now," He reasoned. "Wouldn't you need some time to think things over and adjust?"

"You don't understand him like I do!"

He left. Benny let him go, then turned to Mimi, who was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, her face scowled.

"Mimi-"

She scooted away from Benny's outstretched hand. He tried to comfort her.

"Are you upset? I know this is coming as a shock, but-"

"I think I also need some time." She said, quickly leaving. Benny looked pained as she walked out the door, and then he turned to Maureen.

"I'm sorry. I know it wasn't really my place to tell, but-"

"No, I'm glad you did. Thanks."

He laughed coldly. "For what? I didn't help you when it happened, and I didn't say anything until now."

"Just… for backing me up, I guess. For a while there, I didn't think they'd believe me."

"Of course." Benny straightened the coat on his shoulders, moving towards the door. "If you want to talk, I'll be in touch. The thing is, I left Alison home alone, and she'll be wondering…"

"I get it. Thanks, Benny." Maureen watched him go, feeling numbness return to her.

There were other people in the room, she could feel them. The thing was, she couldn't bring herself to look up at anyone. Then she heard Collins' voice.

"Maureen?"

"Why are you still here?" She snapped.

"Why wouldn't I be?" His voice was gentle.

"You're his friend, aren't you? Why aren't you off comforting _him_?" Maureen knew she sounded childish as she stared at the ground, refusing to look at Collins.

"He's got enough people with him right now. You don't."

"Yeah well, what's fucking new?"

An arm slid over her shoulders and she felt the couch shift as he sat beside her. "I'm sorry Maureen. None of us ever knew. That musta been so hard for you."

She nodded silently, letting him embrace her. It was strange to have this comfort, this sympathy, when she'd gone without it for so long. She'd managed for years without telling anyone, and by doing that, she denied herself the loving support and sympathy that she deserved.

"It was but I… I mean, I was used to it."

"Doesn't mean it was right."

"Yeah…" Maureen turned her face so it was tucked into the crook of Collins' neck. His skin was warm. She breathed a sigh of relief. The ordeal of getting it out had been exhausting, true, but it was over. Everything was out in the open and she didn't have to pretend anymore.

"Maureen?" She looked up. It was Joanne, hovering in the doorway. The lawyer looked uncharacteristically nervous. Maureen sat up a slightly, setting her body away from Collins'. She was a bit reluctant to leave the warmth of him beside her, but she knew Joanne needed to talk. He moved his arm and let her go. He gave her look that asked if she was okay, and she replied with a shrug. They both stood and Collins left the room after giving her arm a quick squeeze. She walked over to Joanne.

"Yeah?"

Joanne looked at her with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Honeybear."

She pulled Maureen into a hug, a tight hug that lasted several long seconds.

"Are you- are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I've been fine this whole time, haven't I?" Maureen didn't mean to let the snippy edge enter her voice, but it was there.

"I just can't imagine what it must have been like for you!" Joanne hugged her tighter. Unexpectedly, Maureen felt a growing irritation. Joanne hadn't shown her this sympathy or compassion before, and now she was treating Maureen like she was a completely different person. It didn't make sense. She stood there, allowing Joanne to hug her. It wasn't really helping her, but if it made the lawyer feel better…

"You know what we need to do?"

"Hmm?" Maureen had no idea where to go from here.

"We need to schedule you an appointment. One of my coworkers had a breakdown a few months ago, and since then she's been seeing a therapist- I think it could really help you."

Maureen pulled back and looked at her, letting out a sharp laugh. "Are you serious?"

Joanne looked taken aback by Maureen's reaction. "Well, yes. After all this, you must seriously need someone to talk to. Going without any counseling all these years must have been very difficult, so I think it's best if we get you seeing someone as soon as possible."

"I don't think so Joanne. I've handled it on my own this long, why should I start seeing someone now?" She challenged.

Joanne looked frustrated and began to speak, then stopped herself. She sighed and gave Maureen a sympathetic look. She rubbed the side of Maureen's arm as she spoke. "I'm sure you're very worn out after that whole scene. You're probably tired and you can't think properly."

"I'm thinking _properly _enough, thank you. Don't condescend." She snapped back.

"Maureen, just… please." Joanne looked distressed by her girlfriend's lack of cooperation.

"No, Joanne." She was resolute. "This was enough for now. I don't want to deal with the whole emotional ordeal of rehashing this story again, not yet."

"Maureen, are you deliberately making this difficult?!"

"Joanne, if she's not comfortable, maybe you should let it be for a while." Collins had stepped out from the kitchen. He stood between then, his deep voice calming them, easing the tension between the two women.

"I'm just trying to help." Joanne sounded put out.

"I know. She knows, but maybe she's not ready to handle all that yet." He spoke for Maureen, who was unexpectedly comfortable having him defend her. For once she wasn't aggressively taking her side. She stood, still expressionless, as Collins talked Joanne down.

"I understand that, I just thought it would be easier for everyone if-"

"Joanne, I'll consider it. Ok? Is that enough?"

"Of course it's enough, Honey. I just want you to be alright, I want you to be okay after all this…" And Joanne took her in her arms again. Maureen looked at Collins over her girlfriend's shoulder, rolling her eyes. He smiled weakly at her.

"Let's go." Joanne said after they parted. She took her purse and pulled Maureen's hand with hers as she moved toward the door.

Maureen turned to Collins, then told Joanne, "Wait for me. I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay."

Maureen went to Collins, hesitating before putting her arms around him.

"Thanks." She said, her voice muffled in his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, and Maureen sighed.

"No problem Maureen."

"Can we get together to talk again sometime this week?" She sounded hopeful.

"Sure thing."

She kissed him on the cheek before exiting the loft. She saw Mark on her way down, and he stepped aside to let her down the stairs, avoiding her eyes.

"Hey." She said.

"Hey." He replied, moving past her. He seemed to want to say more, then cut himself off, shaking his head. "Never mind. Bye."

"Whatever." She continued down, meeting Joanne at the bottom of the steps.

Hmph.

**I'm personally unimpressed with my characterization of Joanne, but I don't really like her, so that could explain my inability to write her very well. Not that that's an excuse, just a possible reason. Crappy chapter ending too, my apologies.**

**I feel rather "meh" about this chapter. I think it's just a "meh" chapter in general, with the more interesting chapters in the near future (like the next one, or the one after that). I'd read through it again, but I want to get this posted so I can move on to the better stuff.**

**Oh, and a great big thank you to all those who reviewed after my little hissyfit last chapter about the lack of reviews… Not that I'm retracting my plea for feedback, but I'm sorry I lost it with my verbal tantrum. O_o**

**But it seemed to work! Maybe I'll get a few little notes this chapter, though I don't blame you if you don't comment, buz there doesn't seem to be much to say after this update… ok, enough rambling.**


	10. The Week After

**CHAPTER 10**

"I don't wanna see a shrink." Maureen said firmly. "I've been there, done that, and I don't want any more of their analysis shit."

"You've done therapy before?" Collins asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah." Maureen cracked an egg into the mixing bowl. "When my parents got divorced, they had me see some guy for a few months. I don't think it really helped any, and it cost a lot of money. Not that Mom minded," She remarked thoughtfully. "It came out of Dad's child support checks."

Collins kinda laughed at that, and Maureen gave him a bitter smile. He was leaning against that wall, watching as Maureen moved around his kitchen, pulling out baking powder from the refrigerator and flour from the cupboard. "You're very well-stocked," She noted, looking impressed. "Joanne doesn't cook, so we always eat out and there's no reason to keep baking supplies at home. And I couldn't find half this stuff at Mark and Roger's place, when I lived there. They don't have shit."

"Yeah, well Angel always liked to cook. I kept things stocked after she left, even though I don't bake every often."

She gave him a careful glance after he mentioned his former lover. He seemed fine though, not depressed by it, so she continued.

"That's really sweet, though I don't know that pancakes could really qualify as _baking_," Maureen teased. Collins shrugged.

She continued, "Anyway, I just really don't feel like therapy. I don't want to do it."

"Are you uncomfortable about discussing all this?"

"Not with you. But to show up in an office and chat with someone about the messed up stuff in my life, then smile, shake hands and leave once my hour's up? It's too weird, and impersonal. Besides, it's not just about…Roger and all that crap. Joanne wants us to go together, to talk out our issues and all. I think Joanne thinks they're related, but," Maureen shook her head. "I don't know."

"You think she's right?"

"Maybe. Maybe there are some things we could discuss, but maybe this is her way of getting out of having to deal with anything. I just think she wants to go so she can work this out and get over it and move on. Joanne doesn't like a lot of drama, you know."

"Huh. What about for you? Do you think it could help you?"

Maureen considered as she mixed the batter together. It was fluffed up quickly and she set it down as she went about searching for a pan. "I don't know if I want to talk about all this to someone I don't even know. I'd rather hash it all out with you, Collins." She glanced up and sent him a grin. "Be my therapist?"

He returned her smile. "What else are you here for?"

Maureen set the skillet on the stove, greased it, then turned on the heat. "Pancakes of course! I'm here to use up all your ingredients; I _told_ you Joanne doesn't keep our pantry stocked."

"Right- I should've realized." He teased back, watching as she began pouring the batter for the first one. It pooled in a pale circle on the pan, the butter around it smoking slightly. "Turn that down."

"I am!" She did as he said, lowering the flames, then turned back to the cupboard.

"Now what are you looking for?" He asked, amused.

"Chocolate chips, duh."

Soon enough, Maureen had a stack of chocolate chip pancakes on a plate, and she set them down on the table with a flourish. Conversation was quiet for the first few minutes, then compliments arose over her cooking.

"Never saw you as one for domestic duties." He smirked at her, and in response she stuck her tongue out.

Between her sarcastic humor and the wild stories they both had to share, Maureen found herself laughing more freely than she had in a long while. It wasn't too bad to see the grin back on Collins' face, either.

"_I don't care if you show up or not!" She yelled into the cellphone. It wasn't true, but Joanne was giving her such a hard time about the scheduling, Maureen didn't see the point in going. It wasn't even her idea to begin with._

_After her latest escapade, Joanne had insisted that Maureen run all of her plans by her first, so Joanne could approve them first and know where she was at all times. Hell, Joanne even paid for Maureen's cellphone so she could call her whenever she needed to, to check up on her. It was like one of those anklets a prison would put on criminals to keep track of their whereabouts._

_Of course Joanne didn't see it that way. _

"_It's just so we're on the same page". She insisted. Joanne called it communication._

_Maureen called it Joanne's controlling and oppressive tendencies getting the better of her._

"A prison anklet? Isn't that a bit extreme?" He asked. Maureen shook her head, eyebrows raised.

"I'm serious! I'll bet she even had a GPS chip installed on me somewhere while I was asleep or something!"

Collins rolled his eyes at Maureen's absurdity. They had taken a picnic to Central Park, at her insistence that he get out of the house and "go somewhere less depressing than those meetings where everyone's sick and dying". Amused by her description of Life Support, Collins agreed only on the condition that she in turn, attends one of those grim meetings with him every time he went with her on an outing. It was her turn now though, and he had to admit, it was nice to spend some time out by the trees.

"_I'm going out."_

"_Fine."_

"…_Really?" Maureen poked her head back around the doorway to look at Joanne curiously._

"_I said, fine. Go if you want to Maureen." The lawyer seemed exhausted as she looked up at Maureen from her book. "I'm not going to stop you."_

"_Alright." Maureen wasn't going to complain now that she was being so easily let off the hook, so after watching Joanne (who ignored her girlfriend's presence) for a few more moments, Maureen left._

There was a woman who had regularly attended the meetings with her brother. She had given him blood after he was hurt in a car crash, not knowing that she had been infected and was HIV positive. They always came together, listening to other, sharing their own story. He hadn't been looking too well a few weeks ago, and then both siblings were gone. Now she had returned, alone, to the support group.

Maureen was pale when the woman said that she had bad news. She hadn't even known the brother, only heard about them from Collins, but she gasped with all the rest when the sister related the news of her brother's death. Maureen was the only one who seemed surprised by the news, but everyone was sympathetic, respectful and quiet when the sister continued speaking.

She shared her feelings of guilt, her feelings that as an older sister, she had failed her brother. She shared how painful it had been in the final days, and how difficult it was for her now. Collins had seen many members come and go, but this was only Maureen's second meeting and he wondered how she was taking this. Collins stole a look at her. Maureen had her knees drawn up, and a tissue pressed to her mouth as she watched with shining eyes.

Collins turned back to the woman speaking. She was clutching a tissue in her hands, her voice low and miserable.

"The guilt… that's the worst part. And I don't know how I could be with anyone, not after this… not after I've realized how awful the virus can get near the end."

A man sitting next to her spoke up, thoughtful and sympathetic. "The pain is difficult, I understand. It's impossible to see past this misery, but there will be more in your life… I remember when I lost Tim, my boyfriend. I didn't know how to go on without him… it was so hard, for months I just didn't know how to function. Everyday things were impossible, I could only think of him."

Maureen reached for Collins' hand and they listened patiently. It was difficult for both of them. She felt bad for having condemned Life Support as a group of depressed HIV+ people, since there was also the uplifting, reflective side where people shared stories and laughed over situations, bonding with strangers over their common diagnosis.

"_What's wrong?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_You're unusually quiet," Joanne observed over their dinner. Maureen shrugged, like a sulking kid that didn't feel like sharing their bad day with a parent._

"_I just don't feel like talking." There wasn't much to say anymore, Maureen thought. She couldn't bring herself to share that thought aloud._

_The silence only got louder._

"I haven't talked to Mark. Have you talked to him lately?" Maureen's tone was casual but her eyes gave her away. She didn't look at Collins, but kept her eyes firmly on the kettle of heating water on the stove before her.

"You haven't talked to him at all?" He asked in a tone equally light, pulling down some tea boxes for her to chose from.

"Not since- you know. But is he alright?" And Roger? She silently wondered how everyone was reacting. She had taken refuge in her home, but with the tension from Joanne she spent more time with Collins. There had been a few times when she contemplated calling the Loft just to check in with everyone and maybe get some idea of what had been going on with everyone else, but she chickened out and set the phone back down.

"He hasn't called you?"

She shook her head, picking out Green tea and setting the packet in. She poured the hot water over it, than watched as the swirls spread, the tea steeping. They moved to the table.

"That's not right. And Roger? You haven't heard from him?"

Maureen shook her head again, and Collins seated himself opposite her. "You know I don't like to gossip,"

"But…." She led him, smiling slightly. He sighed at her expectant look.

"Mimi and Roger…"

"Yeah?"

"Mimi's been staying with Benny."

"You mean, at his house!?" She was incredulous. "But what about-"

"Muffy left Benny. Word got back to her about Mimi." Collins explained.

"My God, that's sort of extreme, isn't it?"

Collins shrugged. "Maybe not. She was risking a lot, taking a gamble to be with Benny when he was from such a different background than she was, and he wasn't faithful."

Maureen was quiet, thoughtful. "I don't know, I mean, didn't he love her?"

Collins looked at her and challenged. "What about you and Mark, or you and Joanne? You've never pretended to be completely loyal to either one of them."

"Yeah? And?" Maureen hadn't taken such a defensive tone with him in a long while, and Collins backpedaled quickly, calming her down while making his point.

"Just don't be so quick to condemn Allison for being harsh just because your partners have been so forgiving with you. Not everyone is as lenient as Mark was."

That shut her up. Maureen scowled and set her mug down on the table with unnecessary force, then yelped as she hot water splashed over the rim of the mug onto her fingers.

"Careful!" He cautioned.

"I'm fine!" She snapped, pushing his hand away from hers. After the support he'd been offering her this past week, Collins had become one of the few men she felt truly at ease with, but with all this talk of relationships, she was worn thin.

"Maureen, don't be so touchy. Let's not go back there."

"Sorry," she mumbled. Maureen refrained from snapping again when he asked her if she needed a napkin, only nodded. When he was seated again, she returned to the gossip they'd been discussing.

"Has Mark been seeing anyone?"

"Nah. I think he's still hung up on you."

Maureen snorted, rolling her eyes. "I can't imagine why. I'm unfaithful, loud, cheap, and come with trunks full of baggage."

Collins just shrugged. Maureen waited before asking, "So, Roger's alone? Other than Mark, he's alone?"

"You're asking about him and Mimi?"

Maureen nodded.

"She's upset with him."

"Over…?"

He looked at her skeptically. "What do you think?"

"Me?" She questioned.

"Not exactly. You realize that that was a lot for everyone to take in at once. I had no idea what to expect, and you sort of threw us for a curveball."

"Yeah, I know. Things haven't been going well for me and Joanne either- you know."

He nodded, solemn. After a few agitated moments, Collins just said, "Muffy and Benny, Mimi and Roger, Mark and you and Joanne- it's just not right!"

Maureen was surprised by his vehement tone. "What do you mean?"

He said wearily, "All these unhappy people, shit. It just don't make sense for people not to be spending their time with the people they love. You never know when it'll all be over, you know?"

Maureen frowned, sipping from her mug, thinking of the people she had seen at Life Support, the people she saw everyday out on the street, couples in the park. She thought of her own life.

"Yeah." She said slowly. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

She had to talk to Roger.

* * *

**AN: YES! I have another chapter up! And it's long! And I'll get the next one up tonight, too, which is gonna be all sorts of crazy, cuz things change and get tricky and omigoodness, I'm excited to be posting right now!**

**And just so you know (I'm in a whimsically good mood), I love you, my reviewers. Really I do. I think you are all _swell!_**

**Wait, though.... as soon as I get one review- just ONE- I will post the next one. I have it right here, with me, like a cat on my lap, purring and just waiting to be posted, so c'mon now! Lemme know you want it!**_  
_


	11. Confrontation

**CHAPTER 11**

**Author's Note: Okay…. I'm gonna throw you all for a loop here, and I hope you don't hate me. Also, two thirds of this has been written for months, then I added some more in the beginning to make it flow a little better, but there's still a shift in the tone (I think, at least) but I just don't feel like reworking it right now. I just want to get this posted and out there. After a chapter like this, feedback would be AWESOME. Thank you, lovies! Oh, and thank you, my two darling reviewers on the last chapter.  
**

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The same day Maureen had her realization that things were weird and things were going to stay weird until she talked to Roger alone and just dealt with things, Maureen and Joanne broke up.

To say it was simple. Split up- broke up- were no longer together.

They hadn't fought. Maureen had come home and found Joanne packing her things. The other woman stopped when Maureen entered the room, and stood and looked at her. Maureen waited in the doorway, and when she didn't say anything, Joanne just resumed packing. Finally Joanne said it- she'd had enough. She cared for Maureen deeply, and she would miss her, but she was done now. Maureen could stay at the apartment for three more weeks, but then the rent was out and Joanne wasn't going to pay for a place she wasn't living at. She would be staying somewhere else when she returned from her vacation.

A vacation.

Maureen was startled by that most of all, but nodded and wished Joanne relaxation and peace of mind on her vacation.

There wasn't anger- that was clear. There were no snippy, spiteful remarks or last jabs to get in- only a quiet understanding on both sides. Joanne hovered, wished her well, promised to call when she got back "in a few weeks" to see how things were, then embraced Maureen before she left.

Maureen first thought was to call Collins, but instead she unplugged her phone. She needed to learn to take care of herself.

Her second thought was to go out and hit the bars, but she immediately pushed that away and settled for a long bubble bath.

For the day and a half, Maureen didn't know what to do with herself. She wondered if she should feel better, now that she had more space, but she didn't. She wondered if she ought to feel sad, since there was one more failed relationship to add to her list, but she didn't feel that either. There was no regret, only a muted disappointment and acceptance.

She understood that the lawyer wasn't accustomed to such excitement in her life, and while the drama Maureen brought to her was fun and entertaining at first, Joanne had probably gotten sick of it. What had it been- one death, one near-death, a constant on/off relationship, plus an account of close-to homeless friends that had only been remedied once Joanne stepped in and helped Mark get a job? And now _this_? It was no wonder she was done with it. Maureen wished she could leave her own life as easily.

On the third morning after Joanne's leaving, Maureen broke down and got herself some fast food. She stood in front of the register and (pushing away the guilt for the factory-farmed cows) ordered herself a Double-Double. She ate self-consciously in her booth, looking around at all the empty-eyed, lonely people that filled the cheap place. It was really depressing. She finished her food quickly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be far away from all those miserable-looking people. She had to get out of there.

Maureen could go back to her apartment but the thought of being there alone, blank walls accusing her, the silence of Joanne's absence pressing in on her, was unbearable. Instead, she headed toward the Loft, feeling herself guided there by nothing more than the simple wish for familiarity, and possibly comfort. She arrived just in time to catch Mark on his way out the door, cradling his camera.

"Hey." He said, raising his eyebrows at her appearance.

"Hi." She replied quietly. Mark shuffled around her, glancing from the door to Maureen, frowning.

"I was just heading out, but do you want to stay?" He spoke slowly, as if the offer was being dragged out of him. Mark hastened to add, "I mean, Roger's the only one here…"

She shrugged. "I'll be okay."

"Of course you'll be okay," He snapped, defensive. "He wouldn't- this whole time he hasn't- that was a long time ago!"

"I know that, I wasn't saying-" Maureen sighed, exasperated by his over-defensiveness. "Just go, Mark. Get some great footage, okay?"

Once Mark left, she began to question what she was doing there. There was no sign of Roger anywhere. She wandered over to the stove, thinking to make some tea, but remembered how Roger had fixed her tea that one time, so considerate, so uncharacteristically kind despite her constant cruelty towards him. And what had she done? Only reacted like a madwoman when he tried to comfort her- _not without good reason_, she reminded herself. _You were totally unprepared to face him, especially after the nightmare you had been having._

Steering herself away from the teapot, Maureen opened a can of cola instead, then put it back in the fridge after realizing that it wasn't what she wanted at all. It'd go flat but oh well. She didn't need sugar or caffeine, she needed something to steady her nerves. Before she really thought about it, she had reached up for some of the liquor she knew was kept on top of the fridge. Drinking the vodka straight out of the bottle, she strolled back into the living room. She had settled herself down on the couch, only to realize that she was sharing the cushion with Roger's guitar. It was propped up against the pillows on the opposite end of the beaten-up couch, just watching her.

That damn guitar. Everything in the room only served to remind her of Roger. _Well, what had you come over here for, if not to talk to him?_

Looking for something else to concentrate on, she took another swig of burning Stoli and glanced around. Everything was so lonely, so empty, so silent…wait.

She listened a moment.

No, not silent after all…She got back up again, setting the bottle down on the low table as she walked towards the sound. Of course, it was Roger's room- _where else would he be? _Thinking twice, she went back and grabbed the vodka bottle. There was no way she'd be able to get through a one-on-one talk with Roger sober.

He was in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed furthest from her, head bowed. Maureen watched him for a moment, then realized that he wasn't as still as she had thought. Though the lights were out, she could see his shoulders shaking slightly. She stepped into the room quickly, closing the door behind her.

"Rog-Roger?" She whispered, moving to stand near him, hovering uncertain. Roger turned slightly towards Maureen, looking a bit surprised at her being there.

"What…Maureen? What do you want?" He rasped, tears still caught in his throat. Maureen felt stupid- what _was_ she doing there? To avoid the question, she held the bottle out to him

"Have some." _Was she stupid? Offering him alcohol? _He wordlessly accepted the vodka and took a long drink from it.

"What are you doing here?" He asked a bit roughly. "I thought you wouldn't want to even see me ever again."

"Don't be an idiot," She replied, though she had thought the same thing. "Anyway, why are you crying?"

She slowly eased herself onto the mattress beside him, fighting her uncontrollable inner scream- _No don't do it, what are you doing? A bed?! With him? Run run run now!_ But she found it was a lot easier to ignore her panicked inner voice when she had Stoli in her system, subduing it.

"Mimi's gone. She's left, she just left…" A muffled, choking sort of gasp came from him, and she realized it was a sob. He turned to her, eyes fierce. "Because of you. Because of those things you said- because you went and told everyone! And she can't anymore- she doesn't love- because of you!"

The words exploded out of him, and he suddenly leaned towards her, angry and wounded and not realizing what he was doing. He grabbed hold of her and pushed her, unintentionally pinning her to the bed.

"Don't!" It was a piercing wail. "Roger, stop!!"

Before she could fight in earnest, she was quickly released. The moment she had cried out, he let go as if she had burned him.

He stared at his hands, wide-eyed and horrified, then he looked at her. "I am so- Maureen, that wasn't-"

He reached out, and she flinched away, frightened and wild and hating herself_. You stupid stupid idiot- why did you get yourself in this situation?? You knew what would happen, just like before!_

"You _raped_ me Roger." She said in a cutting low voice. He cringed at the word, his head hanging down. "You fucking touched me and hurt me and screwed me up and that's _sick_. I know you're sorry now, but don't you ever try to blame me for what happened."

He didn't say anything, and she began babbling, though if it was a result of the alcohol or just her own nervousness, she couldn't say.

"Yeah, I told everyone. What was I supposed to do?" A desperate note of self-justification entered her voice. "I had been dealing with this on my own for long enough, don't you think? I had to come clean about it, and I'm sorry about how this turned out. Maybe if I had just kept my mouth shut things would be better off, but Roger-"

"No." He spoke quietly, but he looked up at her now. "You had every right to come forward about all that. I still can't believe you didn't say anything earlier…I don't know how you could live with me after…"

He looked sick.

"It wasn't easy." She let out a harsh laugh, and he cringed again. She grabbed her bottle and took another good drink, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She bent over to set it back down on the ground, then closed her eyes and took a moment to steady herself from the rush she got from moving. Jesus, she was really feeling that alcohol now.

She leaned slightly towards him, grabbing his arms for balance. He smiled weakly at that. "How wasted are you?"

"Fuck you," she said, still unsteady. He righted her, his hands on her shoulders, but immediately let go once she was stable. Maureen didn't seem to notice his reluctance to touch her. She scooted closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder, suddenly quiet. Roger didn't move either.

"I'm sorry." He said it so softly that she paused a moment before she looked at him. Maureen was shocked to see tears beginning to fall silently back down his face. "I'm so sorry Maureen. I'm a fucking _monster_, all this shit I put you through." His voice broke. "I'm sorry."

Forgetting herself, she leaned in towards him.

"Roger, stop- I didn't mean to make you cry. Come on, Roger-"

He turned his green eyes on her, and they were clear. Startlingly clear, not the hazy, frighteningly out-of-it green from before, and suddenly Maureen realized something. A few somethings, in fact. This Roger wasn't the same Roger that had hurt her before. He was different- and he was sincerely sorry for what had been done. She watched his tears with renewed wonder, realizing that he was crying because of her, because of his guilt over the wrong he had done her.

Knowing that he needed her forgiveness, knowing that she alone could provide relieve from his self-disgust and self-hatred gave Maureen a huge power rush. Only she could make that guilty look in his eyes go away, only she could absolve him and let him off the hook, only Maureen.

"Roger…"

He looked at her, startled by the purr in her voice.

"It's okay, don't cry anymore. I'm alright." On impulse she closed her eyes and put her mouth on his.

He allowed the kiss for a moment, before he pushed her away, looking aghast. "Oh god Maureen, I'm so sorry! I try to apologize and instead I screw it up, I didn't mean to-"

"Nothing to apologize for." She whispered, moving forward, onto his lap. "That was all me." She kissed him again, but was rebuffed a second time.

"Maureen, what are you thinking? I can't- not after I-"

She pushed him back on the bed, somehow confident that this was the solution.

"But- Mimi!" He said wildly.

"This is between you and me. Nothing to do with her."

"No!" He was desperate, crumbling under her touch. "Just like before..."

"It won't be like last time. Because I want this. I know what I'm doing, I'm perfectly aware-"

"You're drunk." He protested softly as she pulled her top off over her head.

"And?" She leaned over him, whispering in his ear as she undid the buttons of his jeans. "This is it, Roger. We can right all the wrongs, we can make this what it was supposed to be. This is our chance."

Maureen had decided. She would make him hers this night. She would undo all the harm he had done her by asserting herself now, taking back what he had stolen.

He didn't argue.

* * *

**Um....**

** -runs and hides, waiting for a response-**


	12. Morning After

**CHAPTER 12**

Maureen awoke to a pounding headache and a painfully dry throat. Her first response was to pull the covers back over her head, but she became quickly aware of her surroundings and realized that wasn't an option.

O fuck…. not again.

_You brought this on yourself_, sang that annoying little voice in her head.

_But it had all made sense last night! _was her weak defense.

"Oh my god…"

Roger slept on beside her, still undressed. A quick glance assured her that he had his boxers back on- a relief, because it was awkward enough waking up beside Roger, much less a completely nude Roger. She gazed at his naked back for a moment before she sat up in bed. She stared around the room, holding her head, furious at herself and yet still wanting to crawl back in with him. Maybe if she lay in his arms just a few more minutes, maybe if she squeezed her eyes tight shut, things would be restored to normal-

_Normal?_ Queried the skeptical voice in her head. _It wasn't exactly normal_-

Okay, not "normal", but maybe if she curled so close to him, all boundaries forgotten and lost, this would be okay.

What was not okay about it anyways? She thought to herself, desperate for justification. Yeah, so she slept with a guy last night. People did it all the time.

_Not under these circumstances, and that's what's not okay about it_!

Ignoring her voice of reason, Maureen let herself lay back and think of last night. It had all been so wonderful, and just like before, he had pierced her with his eyes. They weren't cruel or glazed over or detached this time. They were gentle, sorrowful, remorseful, tender eyes. Not that his eyes were the only things she loved about him. His eyes, his face, his lips, his hands, his body, his _voice_…

Jesus, she had to stop that. _Stop that! It's not alright to think of him that way._

If her first thoughts were of Roger, her second thoughts were of Mark. Was he in the house? He had to be, unless he'd left already to film. What time was it anyway? Maureen got up and searched around for a clock. She finally found a cord and pulled it until she found the clock it was connected to under some clothes, dropped by the side of his bed. She frowned at the little black electronic box. Her head was pounding, she couldn't bring the numbers on his digital clock to focus, and she quickly gave up. By the sound of things, no one was home, or at least no one was awake yet. She could leave and maybe Roger would dismiss last night as some drunken hallucination due to recent events. Okay, that was stretching it. The loft seemed quiet though, so maybe she could just sneak out unnoticed…?

She heard a groan behind her. Too late.

She turned to see Roger stirring in bed. He remained facedown on the pillow, his hand groping beside him on the empty sheets.

"Maureen?" His voice was muffled. Thinking her to be gone, he sighed. "Thank god, I thought-"

He lifted his head, then saw her standing there, naked and arms crossed. "Oh Christ." He dropped back onto his pillow with an anguished sound.

"You thought what? That I'd be conveniently gone and you wouldn't have to deal with me the next morning?" She said acidly. "That's not how it was then and that's not how it is now."

His eyes darkened as he glared at her. "No! I thought that maybe it hadn't even happened, it was all in my head. And don't even mention last time. Last night you said it _wouldn't_ be like last time."

"I said a lot of things last night, but that doesn't mean I-"

"Meant them?" He questioned her, cruel smile on his face. "You just said all that shit to lure me into thinking that- into allowing you to- you fucking got me drunk Maureen, then came onto me!"

"Oh, so you're putting this on _me_ now? This is _my_ fault? After all we've been through, I would've thought-"

"What the fuck do you mean, 'all we've been through'?! I raped you, that was almost three years ago and I didn't even know what I was doing! What do you want, more apologies? I'm_ sorry_ Maureen, I'll say it a thousand times if that would change things, but it wouldn't. I'm not asking you to forgive me, I'm not asking you to pretend like it didn't happen, but could you stop forcing it in my face every few minutes?! You obviously love holding it over me, but you need to _let it go_."

"Fuck you." She said bitterly. "I fucking _hate you_ Roger Davis. I hope you burn in hell!"

"Maureen, stop. Why do we always have to get like this? Can you just… just get some clothes on or something?"

"Why?" Angry defiance. "You're naked too."

"It's _my room_ Maureen. Just get dressed please." He closed his eyes and sank down a little into the bed. Roger seemed exhausted, worn, exasperated by her.

"Why? So you can go back to your junkie stripper and pretend this didn't happen?"

Suddenly Roger's face went white and he sat straight up. "Maureen, we had sex."

"No shit Davis, do you think I'd be standing in your room naked if we hadn't?" Even as she said this, she slipped on her panties, pulled on her jeans.

He literally began pulling on his hair, tugging it as though he meant to rip it out. She stared at him like she thought he was crazy. "Don't you get it?! We slept together, _we_ _had sex_."

"As much as I wish I could forget what happened last night, I didn't have quite enough alcohol for that. Yes, we slept together. Sex. Intercourse." She tugged a shirt on over her bra. "Keep in mind that this wasn't a first for us." Her head hurt too much for her to understand the implications of his words. She didn't know what he was getting at but it scared her.

"I know that! But did we- Maureen, the HIV!"

She stared at him, her jaw dropped.

What? _No_. No, there was no way she could have forgotten about that, the fact that he was infected and she was not. Wouldn't she have thought of a condom? Besides that, she _wasn't_ on the pill so she should have remembered about protection anyway- but she hadn't worried about pregnancy for months, not since she got with Joanne, and so there had been nothing to remind her, and she hadn't been thinking clearly, she really hadn't been thinking at all!

Her hand flew to her mouth and tears of disbelief and fear sprang to her eyes unexpectedly. Her fiery anger left her drained and shocked. Maureen sank down on to the bed, sitting near him.

"Roger, we didn't use a condom. Roger, we didn't use a condom, Roger we didn't, I didn't even…Roger-" Her voice was faint, and she slowly reclined to lay on her back, her arms curled around herself.

"This is unbelievable." She whispered.

"Maureen?" There was no more anger, no more accusations. He looked over at her as she lay staring at the ceiling, eyes wide and blinking. Roger moved a little closer to her, then hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him, rolling her body so she could bury her face in his chest. She began to sob brokenly.

"I don't want to die Roger! I screwed it all up, it's my fault and I- I don't want to be sick, I don't want this to be bad! I wanted it all to be okay, after last night I thought it would all be okay."

And just like last night, everything fell away and she was in his arms.

* * *

**Author's Note: After a chapter like this, and the one before, I would LOVE a little feedback to know how you all feel about this. But I'm also kind of afraid of what you'll say…**

**So review if you will, and if you don't… then I think you're not nice.**

**So there. **


	13. Moving in

CHAPTER 13

Maureen had wanted to go and get tested the next day but Roger had explained to her that it would be a few weeks before they would be able to detect any HIV antibodies in her bloodstream. Three weeks minimum. Twenty-one days of nail-biting, pacing, and anxiety-filled waiting.

In the meantime, Maureen began moving her stuff out. The rent Joanne left on the house would be up soon anyway and she saw no reason to linger in the apartment. She thought it was natural that she'd want to return somewhere familiar during this uncertainty and she told Collins so over the phone as she put the last of her stuff in boxes. He didn't quite agree.

"You're doing _what_?"

"What? Don't sound so surprised, or disapproving, or whatever that is in your voice, Collins! I mean, I've lived there before," Maureen tried to play it off with some laughter, but she could sense Collins' seriousness in the other end of the line.

"I just don't understand why now- do you really think this is the best time for a transition like this?"

"Well, sure. I mean, Joanne's gone and I'd be looking for a new place anyway." The argument sounded weak even to her, so Maureen added, "I don't even know if this is permanent, so don't freak out on me."

"If you say so," He replied skeptically. "It's not my place to tell you how to live your life. But if you're moving back into the Loft because you think you don't have anywhere to go, you're wrong. I've got room at my place."

She was touched by his offer.

"Oh Collins, I couldn't do that to you, especially now with-" She caught herself. "With everything all up in the air with me and my issues and crap."

"And you think moving in with Roger and Mark is going to help all this?" He didn't understand, and how could she explain it? Maureen sighed. She hadn't informed him of the latest stupid stunt she'd pulled, sleeping with Roger. Maureen had no idea how Collins would react but she was sure he wouldn't be happy about it.

"I don't know exactly, Collins, but I feel like this might help, you know? Working through it all. And even though it might be a little… weird, I didn't come clean about everything just to point the finger of blame and make things awkward. I wanted things to get better, and that's not going to happen unless I'm with the guys. I'll be fine, if that's what's concerning you."

"I know you can handle yourself. You've done so well all this time, haven't you? I know you don't like to be worried after, but I just want things to be alright with everyone. Like before."

After she got off the phone with him she thought of what he'd said. _Had_ things been alright before? Not really, not for her anyway. But in spite of the secret she'd been keeping, at least things hadn't fallen to pieces like now. Things were sort of alright before.

But before what- Angel's death? Mimi's illness? Before Roger and Mimi split up, or before they met and got everyone tangled up? Before Roger got infected with HIV or before he met April, that girl Maureen knew little about other than her name and diagnosis and tragic ending. Maybe that was where most of them pinpointed the troubles to have begun. But what about before then?

Like before Maureen had run to New York, all naivety and eager enthusiasm, trusting strangers and so impressed with her own bravery. Maybe that was when this mess began.

_Don't over think things_, she commanded in her head. _Just pack_.

So she did. And Mark accepted her at the Loft with open arms and a shy smile. He helped her bring in her stuff and though he never actually said it she knew he was hoping that maybe things could go back. As Mark ran back down the stairs for the last box, Roger emerged from his room.

He gave her a curious look as she got settled, dumping the unpacked boxes onto the living room floor without much ceremony.

"Hey." She tried to smile at him and he weakly returned the gesture.

"Hey. So… you're in? For good?"

"For as long as I need a place to stay, yeah. Until we figure things out, I'll just be here."

"Where are you gonna sleep? Where is all this shit gonna go? What's even in these boxes?" He teased, peeking inside one of her cardboard packages of stuff.

"I think those two are clothes, this one's full of books, and Mark's getting the last one-"

"Which is full of bricks," Huffed Mark. They both looked to see him in the doorway, puffing for breath

"Sorry!" She tried to take the box from him but ended up dropping it on her foot. She yelped, yanking her foot back, spilling the contents of the box onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" Mark was instantly at her side, reaching for her foot. Roger snickered at his roommate's motherly concern for Maureen.

"I'm fine Mark, get off of me."

"Are you sure? Is your foot okay?"

"No broken toes, they're all wiggling, I think I'll survive." She was sarcastic.

"Okay, then." He stepped back, looking put out when he hadn't been allowed to sweep in as her hero.

"Ease off Mark," Roger gently reprimanded. "She just got here, don't wanna scare her off again."

Mark huffed, giving Roger a "Look who's talking" sort of look but got the hint. "Do you need any help moving stuff in the room?"

"Nah, I got it." She said, grateful for his offer but relieved when he smiled and said goodnight, retreating into his room.

She grabbed some comfortable sweats from one of her boxes and went toward April's old room. It was Maureen's now, for however long she chose to inhabit the Loft. She'd shared a room with Mark when she lived here before and April's room stayed unoccupied, Roger getting his own space in his room. She never came in here, having no interest in Roger's dead ex-girlfriend. She stepped tentatively into the abandoned bedroom, flipping on the light. There was a bunch of books left on the low bookshelf, volumes of Shakespeare and poetry. Dried roses tied with faded ribbons lay on the top shelf, along with an ashtray and dead butterfly, wings pressed between two panes of glass.

Maureen peered around, just taking it all in. She wondered how much she'd had in common with the dead girl, from the interest in plays to whatever else. Like the possibility of being infected with HIV.

"We haven't really cleaned it out. Sorry."

She spun around, startled to see Roger hanging in the doorway, also studying the room.

"It's fine." She said quietly, swallowing down the nervousness. The jumping sensation in her stomach went down as he met her eyes. Warmth seeped through her as the gaze was held for a few moments. He came toward her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little weird coming back here, and I never came into this room much. It's nice, though."

"Maureen?" She pulled her gaze from the stacked journals and looked at him again. Into his regretful green eyes. "We'll figure this out. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," she mumbled. "We don't know anything yet. But we will next week, right?"

"Yes." He spoke confidently. "I'll take you by there, I know a place that does free testing."

"Thanks."

Later when she was left alone in April's room, Maureen wondered what he would do. If she was HIV positive would he take care of her because he felt guilty? If she wasn't would he just want to put the whole thing behind them? And what if she was pregnant?

_In the morning. We'll deal with it in the morning._

And in April's room, amidst the dead ex-girlfriends' forgotten belongings, all the possessions the young woman had left behind, Maureen fell asleep.

**Wow, chapter end fail. Sorry guys- I know I suck about updating and I could make excuses but I think I'll just post the next chapter instead. Two in one night- makes up for the long time I took with this, right? I hope?**

**I love you guys. :)**


	14. The Clinic Confession

**CHAPTER 14**

**DISCLAIMER: I've forgotten about these a bit, but never for a moment did I think I was Jonathon Larson. I'm sorry. _Not mine_.**

He stood beside her in the waiting room at the clinic, awkward and shifting his feet. Maureen looked at him.

"Roger, you don't have to be here. You can go back to the loft."

"No, this is my fa-"

"It's no one's fault." Roger gave her a harsh look and she amended her statement. "It's _both_ of our faults, but that doesn't mean you have to be here."

"Yeah I do. I wasn't about to make you come here on your own, like I had to."

Oh right. April. Maureen gave him an odd look, then placed her hand in his, interlacing their fingers and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he said quickly, at the same time she added, "You know it's not your fault." And they both almost smiled.

"Maureen Johnson?" A nurse called. They both turned.

"You may come in now. This way please." Maureen pulled Roger behind her, her hand tight around his.

A few minutes later, Maureen was gritting her teeth, looking anywhere but at the needle in her arm.

"Does it really bother you that much?" Roger asked, slightly amused. She nodded rigidly, unsmiling.

"We're not all used to jabbing needles in our arms whenever we feel like it, Davis." He didn't even rise to her cruel remark. Over the past week, they seemed to have gotten past the low comments. It was only her intense discomfort from the needle that made her lash out.

The nurse looked sharply at Roger and he just smiled innocently. "Diabetes."

Maureen snickered slightly at his explanation, but the nurse looked mollified. Roger smirked at Maureen, who only shook her head slightly with a small smile of her own.

Finally it was over, and a taped bit of cotton obscured the mark in her pale skin from her worried eyes.

Positive? Negative? The answers were in her blood, traveling her veins, maybe even spreading the disease.

"When can we expect the results?" Her voice was higher, strained, and Roger looked sad when he realized she'd returned to those thoughts.

"We'll send the blood in to the lab, analyze it, and send you the results, so I'd say you can expect the results by…next Friday?"

The nurse ended his sentence as if it were a question, which short-tempered Maureen found highly unprofessional. She just nodded curtly.

"That's fine. Thank you very much." Roger spoke for her politely, then led her out of the clinic. "What next?"

She looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised. "You're asking _me_?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"I don't know… we should probably get a pregnancy test kit, just in case." He looked at her sharply and she raised her hands defensively. "What? Just in case, don't worry!"

"_Don't worry?_ Don't worry! Maureen, it's bad enough that there's a possibility that I gave you HIV, and to even suggest that you might be carrying my child- a child that could very well be infected- is awful!"

Her lip quivered. "I got enough of this from Joanne. I don't need you yelling at me too."

Roger started to respond, stopped himself, then looked directly into her eyes. "Maureen, you have to understand what I'm feeling. If I gave you HIV, if you're pregnant with a kid that has it and it's my fault, I couldn't live with myself."

"We already went through this! It's not your fault! I was the one who came in there with a bottle of vodka-"

"I should have put my foot down and said no." He loudly spoke over her. "It's my fault- I should've at least remembered to use a damn condom!"

"Roger, stop! We both are holding ourselves responsible, but Roger, do you blame me?"

"Not like I blame myself."

"Well, _I_ don't blame you. So what's the point in hating yourself over it? It won't change anything."

"I just can't believe it…"

"I know. Me neither."

He looked down, shrugging. "We can get one of those… tests at a liquor store can't we? A 7/11 would carry them."

"Yeah." They began walking down the block, side by side but not touching. After a few more moments of silence, Maureen reached out and touched his arm, pulling him to a stop outside the 7/11.

"Can't we be together and be okay? Without the fights and the tears and the yelling?" She gently took his hands in both of hers. "Can't we just be like this?" She began to lean in towards him, but Roger sidestepped her quickly.

"No." He said sternly. "We can't do _that_."

"Why not?" Tears of rejection threatened to enter her eyes and Maureen blinked suddenly, looking away. She pulled her hands out of his grasp.

"Maureen, really." He spoke as if explaining something obvious to a child. "Given our history, we can't exactly start a relationship can we?" Roger was saying it almost offhandedly, like it was impossible. Like he didn't even see it as a realistic option.

"Why not?" She asked again, almost pleading.

"Maureen, this isn't what you want- I'm not what you want." He sounded tired, but Maureen wasn't giving up.

"You don't know what I want."

"The other night, we didn't mean for that to- we were drunk." Roger said weakly, not looking at her.

"But what if it wasn't just me being drunk and screwing things up? What if I meant it, what if _I wanted_ things to be like that between us?"

He looked at her, weary and uncertain. "What do you mean? You wanted a kid?"

"No!" That was not what her intentions had been at all. His look of confusion and exasperation deepened and Maureen tried to take it back. "That's not what I'm saying. I mean, maybe someday, but that's not exactly why I came into your room that night."

"I don't understand you."

She tried to explain it as simply as she could. Looking into his eyes, Maureen just let the words spill out. "Roger, I… I was drawn to you the moment I saw you. Back when we first met, up until now."

"But- no." Roger looked slightly alarmed. He fumbled in his speech. "You were with Mark, then Joanne-"

"That wasn't anything, not compared to y- it's like, I'd sleep with guys just for the sake of sleeping with them. No emotional attachment, no seeing each other again, nothing. That wasn't what I wanted, but I think I was trying so hard to avoid being hurt, and I guess I thought I could avoid it by hurting other people. But when I met Mark, and I saw you… I had to stay with him. I needed to see you. At first I thought it was because I needed to see if you were in pain, or if you would recognize me, but I don't think that was it. I wanted to be with you."

Maureen blinked at the ground, exposed and uncertain. She was honest, completely honest, about everything she hadn't wanted to know or admit, these undeniable truths she'd been keeping stuffed in, out of sight. She bit her lip, wondering at his lack of response, afraid to look up from the ground, but then she felt his arms came around her haltingly, carefully, cradling her against him.

Maureen eagerly leaned into his embrace with a sigh, grateful for the secure way he held her. She closed her eyes, trying to commit his scent-

faded cigarettes, worn out clothing, sweat, and something musky, something more-

to memory, trying to imprint how it felt _right now_ to have Roger holding her forever in her mind, because who knew how long it would last? The embrace could end in a moment; their relationship (_relationship?_) could end in a moment; the delicate balance that everything hung on (his issues with Mimi, her breakup with Joanne, their issues with _each other_, whether or not she was pregnant and/or HIV positive) could be tipped in a moment, and things would be messed up beyond repair. But right now…

Right now, everything _felt_ okay.


	15. Definite News

**CHAPTER 15**

**DISCLAIMER- I do not own RENT, this is 100% fiction.**

**Author's Note- Who's been lame and too occupied in "real life" to sit down and write to update this sucker?**

**-sheepishly raises hand-**

**I have. Sorry guys. But here's one now...**

The results came sooner than she'd expected. She was alone in the house, feeling reflective over her bowl of sugary cereal. Mark had refused to buy Roger's cigarettes and snapped that if Roger wanted to indulge in some self-destructive habit he'd have to do it himself because Mark sure as hell wasn't going to speed up his trip to the grave. Roger practically growled a goodbye to her on his way out and Maureen watched him go, muddled by his change in behavior. Mark was having coffee with a girl.

"A date?" Maureen had teased. Mark shook his head earnestly.

"Nothing like that," He reassured her, going so far as to place a hand on her arm. Maureen deliberately dropped her eyes from his hand to his face, her gaze flicking between them until he removed his hand.

She could deal with his hopeful looks but when he touched her and implied that there was still something between them, she realized that she had to correct him.

"You do realize that I'm not- we're not together, Mark." She said, making it clear.

Mark nodded his head quickly, blushing. "I know that!"

"Well in case there's any confusion, I'm telling you. I didn't come back so we could get back together, I moved in because you're my friends and I need a place to stay."

"Okay Maureen, I get it. Sorry." He held up his hands defensively and headed out the door.

He hadn't been gone too long when Maureen remembered to check the mail. She pulled on a jacket and went downstairs to collect the mail from the metal box at the bottom of the stairs. A bit of junk mail, a letter addressed to Mark from his mother and an official-looking envelope with her name printed on front.

She didn't go upstairs to open it. Instead she sat down, right there on the street, and opened the envelope with slightly shaking fingers.

She scanned the formal greeting, her eyes zeroing in on the phrase that gave the news without pretense, without any clinical terms. She bit her lips and closed her eyes, then rose on shaky legs to return to the Loft.

Maureen prayed Collins would pick up quickly. She was terrified Roger would come home before she could compose herself.

The mechanical ringing stopped as a familiar voice answered. "Hello?"

"Collins!" She couldn't help but shout his name into the phone. She was so relieved he picked up, so very relieved to hear his comforting voice.

"Maureen, hey!" His voice brightened when he recognized the caller. "How are you? Getting settled?"

"Yeah, it's fine, but-"

"They're not giving you any trouble, are you? Mark's not trying to woo you back?" He laughed.

"I've set him straight on that account, but Collins I _really_ need to talk to you about something _important_." She pressed, urgency clear in her tone. "Roger…"

"Yeah?"

"Me and him."

He waited for her to explain. When she didn't, he asked, "You and him… what? Is everything okay?"

"Not really. I mean, yes, he and I are getting along fine, but things are getting-" Complicated. Messy. Weird. She sighed. "I don't know.

"Well…" His word hung there as he tried to understand what exactly the matter was. There was more in her tone that she wasn't telling him. "He's being a jerk, or what? I mean, Roger's keeping his distance, right?"

"It's not that." She lost her nerve. How on earth could she explain things to Collins? What would he think about her? He might get mad, he wouldn't understand.

Footsteps on the stairs. Roger was back.

"Listen, I really have to go Collins, but I'm sorry I called- it's just been an adjustment. Sorry I got all weird on you."

"Maureen, it's fine. Call me anytime you need to talk, got it?"

"Sure. Thanks Collins."

She had barely hung up the phone when Roger entered. He was tucking his box of cigarettes into his back pocket, then his eyes found her. He looked at the phone, the letter in her hands.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine." Her voice was clipped.

"I heard you talking to someone."

"Just Collins. He asked to talk to Mark but I told him he was out," She lied. "He was just saying hi. It was nothing important."

"Oh. Alright." He was still staring at the letter. She folded it, pushed it into her jeans back pocket.

"What's that?"

"A letter."

"No shit, Maureen. From who? Lemme see it."

She moved away when he came towards her, turning her face away. She needed to compose herself.

_Think fast Maureen, what do you say? What do you do? __What do you say?_

Maureen wasn't an aspiring actress for no reason. She had talent. She turned to him with her pasted on smile.

"I already read it Roger. It's from the clinic."

"And?" His face was tense, concern and guilt and fear etched into it.

Maureen knew that Roger would be unable to bear it if he knew, so she took his hands in hers and told him the "good news".

"Negative?" He repeated, disbelief on his face. A grin was tugging the corners of his mouth, but he needed the confirmation before he'd allow himself to smile.

"You heard me: Negative." And she smiled brightly at him before wrapping her arms around his neck. He put his arms around her, one hand at the small of her back, the other clutching her head against his chest.

"I can't believe it, oh God, Maureen, I'm so glad. I…" He swallowed, voice getting caught. "I wouldn't know what to do if you were positive."

Christ, how she wished it were true. "Yeah, me neither."

They were still softly embracing when Mark opened the door.

"Rog- oh hey, you two." He looked between them as Roger quickly moved away from her. Maureen missed his arms already.

"Hey, Mark! Man, sorry I was a jerk before you left- how'd your date go?" Roger was trying to draw his attention away from what he'd walked in on. Mark fell for it though, protesting.

"It was really nice, we- it wasn't a date, I already told you!"

"Sure it wasn't, sure Mark... so how far'd you get?" Roger threw an over exaggerated wink at Maureen, who simply couldn't bring herself to smile or play along with it.

"I'm glad you had a nice time. I'm getting in the shower now. So Mark feel free to tell Roger all those gory details." She tried to joke before retreating from the living room space.

Maureen pulled the letter from her pocket and tore it into tiny pieces, throwing them into the trash. She cried in the shower, quietly so neither one of them would hear her. She sat in the tub after she turned the water off, exhausted with her emotions. Then she remembered- April has killed herself in here. Maureen couldn't get out of the tub fast enough after that, her imagination conjuring up images of a bloody faceless girl in the porcelain tub.

She wrapped the towel around her and knelt, going through the cabinet under the sink. She pulled out her box of hair stuff, bath gel, and soaps, grabbing the little cardboard pregnancy box she'd been ignoring the past week. Maureen gripped it tightly in her hand, reading the dumb directions on the back before sitting down on the toilet, placing it between her legs.

As she waited the obligatory two minutes for it to dry, Maureen realized- she already knew the results. Still, the little plus sign was necessary to verify her pregnancy.

She lifted the plastic stick to eye level and with a grim sigh, stared down the unforgiving, unchanging, unmistakable positive symbol.

_Oh shit._


End file.
